Years Aboard the ANS Fire Lily

Chapter 1- The Rescue of Princess Fiona and then some...

It is a quiet day aboard the ANS Fire Lily. I sit with my bright red-heeled boots on top of the controlboard and play with one of those mind-puzzling cubes. You know- the ones with the little different colored squares stickered on the sides. Most people cheat and pull those stickers off, reapplying them to the correct spaces but not I. I instead blast the cube apart and buy a new one that hasn't been all messed up yet. That way, no one knows any better than I solved it.

"Captain?" a voice behind me says slowly. I hurriedly slide my feet off the controlboard and make a pathetic attempt to look as if I am very busy and was not just lazing around.

"Yes?" I reply sweetly, brushing a large reddish-brown curl from the frame of my face.

"The guest in room 17 is making a fuss again," my first mate sighs. He's a young lad of about 16 and pretty good-looking. However, he's much too childish and doesn't know half the things a good space sailor should. Ah well, he'll learn from the best- namely me.

"Very well," I yawn. Getting my lazy bum up, I walk to the door and wave the first-mate away. He backs off, probably to go to the gally and flirt with the cook's girls since he has done his duty. I myself am off to room 17, where Princess Fiona is supposedly having her troubles.

Upon arriving at the door, I knock very sweetly. My guess is that the poor puffy princess has been crying again. Her wail is honestly the most AWFUL thing one could ever encounter, and I certainly have no desire to hear it now.

"Yes?" a sniffling from within says to me. I pause before smiling and open the door. However, I pause, startled and completely caught off my guard. Nothing is being hurtled at me! Usually I have to dodge a lamp, four or five pillows, the video screen set, and a chair in order to see the Princess, and even then there's the whining and screaming and wailing to deal with!


However, Princess Fiona, the daughter of Emperor Jaussen of the nation Wrusha, is still a very pretty lady. She is tall and thin and pale and dainty and anything else that comes to mind when one thinks of a Siberian princess, including the dark glossy ringlets and the small gentle bone structure. I myself find her annoyingly sassy and whiny and completely unbearable. Still, she is royalty, and I did rescue her from the Oraldainians.

"Princess, we must stop this crying business," I say gently, sitting down on the soft bed next to her. She has the covers bunched up in her hands and her bottom lip twitches, like a small frightened animal. I try smoothing out my pleated plaid skirt and to sit properly across from her, like Father always wanted me to behave when royalty was around. I end up falling over while doing this, too busy smoothing my skirt rather than sitting down solidly. So much for being lady-like.

"Oh, Lady Larkson, I know. But really, I miss my father oh-so-very much. And Prince Jeraldo, oh my beloved-" she stops talking, bites her lip and does the most dreadful thing possible; she starts to wail.

I roll my eyes but manage to reply above the constant whine in a convicing sappy tone, "Now, now, dear princess, you will be home within the hour and you will see your darling Jeraldo's face quite soon." I smile empathetically, or at least try to, and I see her smile back, though weakly. I honestly should feel sorry for her, but it seems so impossible when all she did after we rescued her was whine about her clothes, complain about the food, and talk about that sickening pompous oaf Prince Jeraldo who should be dragged off and shot for what he puts his people through.

"Oh thank you Lady Larkson, thank you," she gasps, grabbing me and pulling me into a hug. I feel rather awkward with my bottom in the air and my hands nearly falling off the edges of the bed, trying to keep myself stable. I eventually pull free, however, and stand up, once again smoothing out my skirt very prettily. She hates me as much as I hate her, and though this action likewise causes alarm, I try not to show my surprise.

"No problem Princess Fiona. It's been an absolute joy having you travel with us," I laugh enchantingly, walking quickly out of the room and shutting the door. I immediately begin stalking down to the gally with a dark look upon my face. Trouble is afoot.

"Jackson!" I hollar and my first-mate is immediately by my side.

"What in Bluebeard's name did you put in Fiona's soup?!" I growl, grabbing the lad by the collar and pulling him close, until we're eye to eye.

"Nothing, ma'am! Honest, I swear!" he replies, trembling. Face in a scowl, I stare at him some more until I'm sure of his innocence. Slowly, I let the boy go and walk further into the gally. My cook is a bit shady, you see, so he is my second choice.

"Halloa, Cook Polly," I grin fakely, setting a boot down and looking at him across the cutting board island.

"Hello Captain Larkson," he says back, gold tooth winking as he grins at me in the candlelight. "I suppose you'll be wantin' to know what I put in the ice princess' soup, eh?"

"Aye," I scowl back, hand slowly moving to land on my dagger- the one my mother bought for me in Mercinoewa.

"Try Bluebeard's Death," he cackles, and then I feel my blood turn cold. The horrible, dispicable man! To commit such a crime!

I turn around running, sprinting back up the way I came. The room isn't too far away, but in the time is has taken me to get the truth and turn back, the princess might have plumb downed the whole bowl of soupy doom! Without knocking, I throw open the door, finding her drinking the poison as I stand there.

"No!" I cry and leap from the doorway, knocking the rest of the poison onto the floor. The bowl clatters, and the princess looks at me in surprise and is about to say something. However, she instead faints and falls silently onto the bed. Working quickly, I pull out a vial of green liquid from an inside vest pocket. If only I could know how much of Bluebeard's Death Polly had put into the soup!

The stupid princess' face was so pale to begin with, I can't tell how fast the poison is working either. But judging by her tiny shape, the venom could take effect fast and Fiona will be dead in minutes. Pulling the cork off the vial with my teeth, I hold the back of her neck as I pour the rest down her throat. She swallows and I breathe a sigh of relief. She would have been dead soon, but by some rare miracle, she still had enough strength to swallow.

Bluebeard's Death, when administered in ONE small amount, can transform a person's normal behaviour, whereas TWO can kill. The princess probably sipped at her soup some before she began crying, thus ingesting the first small amount. When she hugged me, I knew that something had to be terribly wrong, though my first inklings were received after opening the door to her room. Immediately, I thought of Jackson, who had been serving her food, but stupid me, he was but a small boy with no reason to harm the Princess! Polly had been preparing the soup however, and was a vile and disgusting man from the Planet Jharghon, the world of thieves and cut-throats.

I was foolish myself though, and should have thought the poison to be as bad as Bluebeard's Death. Instead, I thought it to be something less damaging that would only give the Princess some discomfort. I confess, I would have given her an indigestion or bloating poison myself if her safety wasn't in my own hands. I had echoed the idea with relish many times to Jackson, who didn't like her too much either. Princess Fiona tended to call him pet names and stupid things like "ship lackey" and "spaceship boy" as well as order him to clean up when she had made a mess anywhere on the ship other than her room. Sometimes it was dropping a small box of metal clips to spilling forty cans of paint on the floor. I suppose that was why I had thought of Jackson first, rather than Polly.

Polly! I had completely forgot about the knave! Leaving the princess recovering on the bed, I run back down to gally where not a soul is in sight. Polly couldn't have passed the princess' room, or else I would have heard him. Silently, I walk further into the kitchens, past the cutting board island, past the baskets of vegatables, and past the giant stove into the ice-box room, walking in quietly with a soft clicking and jingling of my boots. Then, I hear a soft metallic clink coming from a corner of the room. I duck as a knife whirls past me above my head, no doubt intended for my heart.

"Polly!" I yell, whipping out my sword. It's a long, curvy Spanyard one, made especially for me by a one-eyed man who lives in Kastilyan Cave, whose work in reknowned throughout the galaxy. It's long, shiny, and very, very deadly.

"Lady Larkson, he's taken me hostage!" I hear Jackson yell. Oh, my poor dull-witted first-mate, to be taken by such an evil man! Eerily, I hear Polly chuckle, like a fiend from some cinemovie.

"Polly, you're a foul man to slip that princess Bluebeard's death," I say, crawling behind the cover of a beef cart.

"Aye, that I am. And you're a stupid sailin' captain on board your pretty pitiful red space ship! Well, I'm a pirate! And I say, dead be the princess! She was a sorry whiner!" Polly's gruff voice replies. I hear him snort somewhere not too far away, drawing in spit before spitting. The freezer casts cold blue shadows everywhere and it suddenly becomes quite frightening to think of being trapped in there, alone with a would-be murderer and a young boy who can't even sword fight.

"Why Polly, why?" I yell. Keep the fool talking and maybe I can skewer him.

"Why? I'll tell you why. 'Cause of the loot she hides under her mattress, that's why! I'm sick of living on this sorry ship, with a sorry captain, much less one who's a girl," he jibes. I stay silent.

"Jackson!" I bark.

"Yes?" my first-mate whimpers. Perfect, I know exactly where they are. You see, Polly's voice is muffled, so he's behind something that will shield his mouth and I already know he's hiding because I didn't see him when I walked into the ice-box room and looked around. The only thing tall enough to hide him and muffle his voice is the turkey cart, which is in the farthest corner of the room with the lamb meat. Jackson's voice was as clear as a bell, however, meaning he wasn't behind anything. I could also hear a metal wall behind Jackson resound with his whimper. Thus, he was sitting beside the cart, agaisnt the wall with Polly's knife to his throat while Polly himself hid behind the turkey meat, waiting for me to stand up.

"What, is Lady Larkson too afraid to stand up and face me? To talk to me? Like a coward! Pathetic little girl! Can't play fair! Has to duck and hide her little plaid bottom! A disgrace to the name of sailin'!" Polly cackles. I round the corner and there he is, right where I thought he would be, eyes closed and laughing at me with his hideous teeth showing to all of the frozen animal meat.

Stupid man. I instantly grab the empty rolling cart by me, slam it into him, and oh so predictably, he leaves Jackson alone to push the cart away. Jackson isn't so stupid that he doesn't get up, and soon the boy is free and begins to run away. As he does so, Jackson kicks the pushed cart in his rush so that it once again rams into Polly, though this time, his jaw. Jackson, after throwing a quick glance back, scurries away completely, and I am left to deal with the murderous cook.

Analielle Nations Ship League had deemed this past year that the captain of any ship may deal with traitors, cheaters, murderers, and other dubious persons on their ship however they like, so long as it is within the law. The law also said that anyone who used Bluebeard's Death on any other person was punishable by life in prison or death, no other choices.

"Get up," I spit, sword point at Polly's neck, having crossed over to him while the aformentioned semi-chaos had ensued. The devious man gulps and slowly rises, back sliding against the wall. "Give me one reason not to, Polly," I say coldly. My breath furls from my mouth like the smoke of a dragon. He says nothing, but gulps again. That's enough for me, and I turn away. I can easily just have him tried once we land in Wrusha. It'd be more humiliating for him that way.

Suddenly, a fiery hot pain burns in my left shoulder, like something has suddenly lodged itself in my flesh. Not even looking back to check what it was since I already know, I whirl around and thrust my sword into Polly's chest, eyes meeting his. He seems shocked that a girl captain like me could do such a thing, or would, and Polly's mouth opens and closes in silent astonishment and horror, like a window that can't make up it's mind. I watch as he slides onto the floor with my sword in his chest, leaving a bloody streak on the cold blue wall. His body spasms and is then still.

I pull free my weapon of choice from his body, and carry it unsheathed back into the warm and fiery parts of the kitchens. It seems like my whole crew is gathered there, looking at me. Sighing, I pull out the paring knife that was in my shoulder and drop it onto the floor with a short gasp. Pulling metal things out from your flesh hurts, you know. Then, the whole crew waits for me to officially give out the verdict of the fight, which they already know, silly crew.

"He's dead," I smile and everyone erupts in cheers. No one liked Polly and no one seems to think twice about the fact that we need a new cook. I, however, command two of my men to dump his body out, where a cleaning crew will later find him with the needed paperwork inside the bag that will be tied around his hand. They obey immediately, and two of my personal attendents bustle over in their white linen dresses, cooing and clucking at my wound. My Secretary of Ship, Pompadoore, will take care of all the paper work and will have the papers ready for everyone to sign within the hour, which is pretty darn good considering there's 76 pages total.

I smile as my attendents, or nursemaids, lead me away to the bath, where I'll spend quite a little bit of my day. No doubt one of them will be caring for withery Fiona as well, to alleviate the fever that my counter-venom couldn't prevent. Jackson will stop by later to hear the story of the fight blow-by-blow, which I'll exaggerate for his sake and mine, or at least my ego's. Then, we'll touch port at Wrusha, I'll be rid of Fiona, our crew will refresh and repair, and perhaps we'll even get the reward money for bringing the whiny girl home. If I'm lucky, I might even get to go out dancing tonight, since after all, I am a girl and us girls- we like to dance.