TK Special #3 - AngusEcrivain... Straight Outta The Shitter

PAYDAY

"Y'know, I'm really starting to realise that piracy doesn't pay all that well."

"Ain't gonna' lie, Cap'n, we could definitely do with a big-ass payday."

Castrol glanced around the dark and dingy bar. He had to admit, when he'd signed up to join the crew of the infamous Captain Erkshore, he had done so with a whole host of expectations and one of those, the most important, as far as he was concerned, well the most important apart from actually being able to make a living, was that there would be wenches.

There was not a single wench in the bar though. There were female pirates, sure, but Castrol knew for a fact that each and every one of them would rather take a walk than show him the time of day, and he released a heavy sigh.

"We had it, Castrol," Erkshore replied. The man was drunk, thanks entirely to the poor excuse for home-brewed rum the bar served. So few places got it right and served 'proper rum,' or anything close to it. 'Course that was to be expected and as Castrol was not a stupid man, reasonably well educated as he was, he realised that different planets had differing conditions and it was the slight variations in a given planet's H2O that made Moonshine different wherever in the 'Verse one was.

But this rum really was particularly bad!

"Aye, Cap'n, we did."

Almost, anyway, but that planet had appeared out of nowhere. One minute there was nought but empty space between the Cutlass and the abandoned flagship of the Scirrilian Royal Fleet and the next there was a gas giant twenty times the size of any Castrol had ever seen and try as he might - and he really, really tried - he simply couldn't get the Cutlass to change course; going straight through the planet had been the only option.

So Castrol had put his foot to the floor and taken the Cutlass' engines way about their maximum safe limits... But inside the storms were brutal. Erkshore's ship had been through hell on more than one occasion - once, quite literally, if one was to believe the stories - but that was nothing compared to what had been inside that gas giant.

And they had seen things. Inexplicable things, things that neither man nor any of their crew would ever speak of again. Things that had tentacles and teeth, and appendages where such things really ought not be.

"That damn Scirrilian ship would've set us up for life, and then some!"

Erkshore was right and Castrol knew it but the Cutlass was within the gas giant for a long, long time. In fact, Castrol was sure there was some time missing, just a few seconds but that bothered him, niggling at his brain.

And then they were out the other side and the Scirrilian ship was gone, literally no sign of it at all, not even a lingering energy signature.

"Reckon you've had enough, Cap'n," Castrol said as Erkshore reached for the bottle, though he made no physical effort to stop the man. If the Captain wanted to drink then Castrol was in no position to stop him, second in command or not.

"Aye, I know I have," the Captain slurred, though he grabbed the bottle by the neck and tipped it back regardless.

Castrol turned away from his Captain, shaking his head slowly as he did so, and his eyes came to rest upon the TV screen to the right of the bar.

The images portrayed a battle, a rather costly one by the look of it. Castrol could not make out the insignia of the ships involved but the majority looked to be large, heavy cruisers, which were normally reserved for escort duty by the vast majority of the Galaxy's Royal Families.

Castrol nudged Captain Erkshore and pointed to the screen whilst he simultaneously inclined his head towards the barman and shouted, "Turn that up would ya', fella?"

It always amazed Castrol how his Captain could go so readily from blind drunk to stone cold sober in the blink of an eye, but that was exactly what the man did.

"Looks to me like someone's singing our song, Castrol," he said, as his second in command stared at him in wonder. "Gather the crew! That, my friend, is our payday!"