A Pirate's Life for Mei

Pressganged

Mei

"Love the sea, don't you? All that bracing, fresh air."

Mei came to a groggy awareness. She opened her eyes a crack and saw light-brown wood: planks. She was kneeling on them. She squinted. Bright sunshine reflected off the wood. The air blowing about her was warm.

"That tell-tale salt of the ocean spray...," a male voice musically called out.

A heavy splash of cold water hit her in the face, shocking her fully awake. She looked up and dripping saltwater stung her eyes, making her blink uncomfortably.

An unfriendly, small male face with an oversized nose and large ears smirked down at her. He had one hand on his hip, the other holding an empty bucket. "Wake up, loves. Welcome to yer new home." He gestured around them with a wave of his arm.

Mind foggy, she took a moment to focus. She was on the deck of a sailing ship, European, historical, something from the age of sail. Said sails flapped overhead in an utterly blue sky, with a harsh, yellow sun glaring down on their heads. It was hot; really hot. The noise of the wind was a constant background roar, as was the sound of the hull crashing through the water each time it dipped between rollers. Sailors walked about in bare feet and she watched them scamper up into the very complicated rope rigging, as agile as monkeys.

A pair of cellists in tuxes, one cobalt blue and the other blood red, sat on chairs under the mainmast, bows on their instruments. They watched her with curious eyes but played a serious tune seemingly without distraction.

She looked at the sailor who'd thrown the bucket of seawater at her. He was gangly and wore a blue uniform jacket and white pants like the other sailors.

Looking down at herself, she was dressed in a shirt and capri pants, a classic prison uniform with white and red horizontal stripes. Well, it was more interesting than the plain brown ones they gave people in her home country.

A foot came at her from the side and kicked her hard in the ribs, causing her anger to flare. All the air left her lungs and she fell sideways with a groan. In doing so, she became aware of the heavy, iron manacles on her wrists and the thick chains between them.

"Yer awake then now, eh?" The kicker laughed. He had a thin, rat face and was missing a couple of teeth. Shorter than the other man by a hand, he was openly lascivious as he appraised her body.

It belatedly occurred to Mei that they were speaking English. Interesting. She must have been sent to one of the European prison servers. Not entirely a surprise with how many political prisoners were filling up servers in Asia with each cultural and anti-democratic crackdown. She didn't mind the idea of not being under the thumb of the very people she'd fought against to land herself in this situation. However, the European servers were populated with far, far fewer political prisoners and a hell of a lot more real criminals. That would make it just as dangerous here, but in different ways.

The gangly one grabbed her long, black hair. Causing her to grunt from the sharp pain, he hauled her up to her knees again, then to her feet. This last part caused him to let go of her, however, as she was actually slightly taller than he was, to his evident surprise. "Huh, lookit that," he muttered, backing up a half step.

The shorter own cackled. "Hah. Percy, she's taller than you."

"And everyone's taller than you, Saxston," Percy bit back.

She fought the urge to claw his eyes out. Her wrists were chained, true, but they were in front of her. She could reach. It was tempting. But the reality of her situation crashed down on her, snuffing her indignant anger out. She sagged a bit on her feet. She was in prison now. She would have to endure or make things worse for herself.