Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ The Wild Stallion and the Drow ❯ Into the Fog ( Chapter 12 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Maj_Scooter 
Anime/Manga: Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy / Adventure / Action | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 04.17.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.3K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Crossover With Non-anime Series Fan Fiction / Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Fantasy / Adventure / Action | Type: Crossover | Uploaded On: 04.17.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.3K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Work In Progress
Author's Warning: Heavy C.S Forester (Horatio Hornblower) and Patrick O'Brian (Aubrey/Maturin) influences ahead, if not blatant, outright use of their works. No infringement of their works is to be intended, nor am I making any profit off this work.
Bring Dramamine, ye be warned.
AN: For those of you who've noted it, I'm aware that the original USS Enterprise was a sloop-of-war; but please forgive this humble author for a little literary license. Especially since I was originally going to use the oldest ship in commission, and pride of the US Navy, the USS Constitution, but decided against it. And using a frigate named Enterprise is just too good pass up.
00000
Eilistraee weakly opened her eyes, revealing to her a dimly lit cargo hold. As her eyes adjusted to the infrared spectrum, she was able to see around, and discern the various heat patterns available to her. The wooden hull of the ship was generally a cold blue, although there were warmer areas, showing her where the shipworms were munching their way through the thick oak timbers and the rats that infested the hidden areas of the ship. Nabiki, she saw, was lying nearby, either asleep or unconscious; when the goddess tried to move towards her priestess, chains rattled and held her back. But the Japanese drow was breathing easily, which alleviated some of the goddess's fear. As did the fact that her morning sickness had yet to return.
She took stock of her tactical situation. She was chained to the bulkhead of a frigate, the Manacles of Bhaal snug around her wrists, severing her connection to her worshippers and clerical orders, thus sapping both her spiritual strength as well as her physical strength. Stagnant seawater sloshed around the decking, soaking her clothes and chilling her to the core. The creak of timbers and ropes under the strain of full sail, the rush of water against the hull of the merchantman, the gruff shouting of orders, and the squeal of gun trucks as the ship's main armament was moved into position on the deck above her. Eilistraee almost missed a light, almost musical chuckle just within earshot. "So, the traitor is my prisoner," a voice said with cold amusement. "Now then, where is the strength that killed my sister, eh? And where is your pathetic defender of the faith?"
Eilistraee turned to her captor, her chains rattling as she moved. "And who might you be, child," she asked.
There was the noise of a cloak hood lowering, and the shuffle and splash of soft boots against the sodden deck. "I am Faeryl," she declared, "eldest of the Spider-Queen's priestesses of House Zauvir, now that my sister is dead. I suppose I should thank you for that."
"And what have I done to you or your family, child," the goddess asked.
Faeryl smirked, her cold, almost predatory beauty enhanced by the smirk. "My goddess has charged our family with a holy quest..."
"Surely you're not seeking the Holy Grail," Eilistraee interrupted, with her own humor laden smirk.
"No, we aren't, defiler," Faeryl sneered. "Lloth demands either you or your head. Whether we provide one or the other to her is acceptable, and will ensure our elevation as the preeminent Drow House." This was, of course, followed by the appropriate sinister laughter.
"You do realize, Faeryl, that my husband will move the heavens and earth to rescue Nabiki and myself," Eilistraee replied with all the confidence in the multiverse.
"Your ‘husband' is merely a pathetic human male," Faeryl snorted. "His defeat of our weapons master was pure luck. Your faith in him is misplaced."
"Be that as it may be, child, but he will come. And he will do what is necessary, including kill you, ‘pathetic' human male or not."
Faeryl's response was to merely walk back to her cabin, leaving the imprisoned goddess and her unconscious priestess in the hold.
"Ooh, my head," Nabiki said, as she slowly regained consciousness some hours after Faeryl left. "Did someone get the license plate of that tractor trailer?" Eilistraee chuckled lightly at her Japanese priestess's comment. "Where are we?"
"Prisoners aboard a slaver," the Drow goddess replied. "Probably on our way to meet my darling mother."
"What? How did that happen? And why am I chained to the wall?"
"For the same reason that I am," she replied, bringing up her manacled hands. "At least your manacles don't strip you of your powers.
"How much do you remember the attack on the shrine?"
"I don't. I was sleeping at the time," Nabiki replied honestly.
Eilistraee adjusted as much as her bindings would allow. "It was the kind of night that my mother and her worshipers like: overcast and moonless. The Zhentish soldiers and Yakuza came in through the national preserve that borders the shrine." She sighed, and began telling her priestess how they wound up in this predicament. At least, she thought, it will pass the time.
00000
The Enterprise glided silently through the waters of The Neck, the straits between the Dragonmere and the Sea of Fallen Stars, through patches of fog. One of the junior officers of the Company had the deck; two of his companions had the watch. Looking through the glass, Subaltern Avery caught the barest glimpse of sail through a fog bank. "What is it," Subaltern Jones asked, as Avery lowered the glass.
"I thought I saw, just for a moment, a sail in the fog."
"Where?"
"A point off the starboard bow, in the fogbank."
Jones held his glass to his eye, and looked in the direction specified. "I don't see anything now. Are you sure it was a sail?"
"Positive. Just for a moment, though. What should we do? Should we beat to quarters?"
"You have the deck, Avery," Jones said.
"But what if it was just a fisherman?"
"Then it wouldn't be an exercise in futility," the third Subaltern, McKimmson, added, as he lowered his glass. "It would be good practice for the crew."
Avery began waffling, as Jones looked aft, past the expectant forecastle crewmen. "We shall beat to quarters!"
The watch drummers began beating "Quarters"; bosun's mates began blowing their pipes, waking the slumbering watch. The crew rushed about the ship to their specific battlestations, while the hammocks were being brought up from below. Gun crews manned their artillery, as ship's boys ran below, to the powder magazines to run pre-measured charges of black powder back up to the guns. The kitchen fires, just stoked for breakfast, were doused, sending up clouds of steam through their flues. Bulkheads disappeared on the gun deck, as Ranma came out of his quarters, throwing a jacket on. Down in the cockpit, Bereth and Kasumi prepared their station for the injuries that were sure to happen.
Ranma walked forward, a glass in hand. "What is it?"
"I thought...for a moment sir, I thought I saw a sail; a point off the starboard bow, in the fogbank."
Ranma looked at the three subalterns. "Did anyone else see it?"
"No sir," Jones said.
Ranma stood there, looking through his glass towards where the ghost may have been seen. He lowered it after a few moments. "Very well then; we'll keep the guns run out, and continue on with the morning. After breakfast, we'll exercise the guns," he said to his assembled officers, but not taking his eyes off the fogbank. They acknowledged his orders, and left the pigtailed martial artist watching the fog.
The frigate sailed through a dead quiet sea, with only the rush of water beneath her hull and the barest whisper of wind through her rigging, coasting in and out of the fogbanks. Ranma continued to stand at the bow of his ship, watching the fog, even as his steward brought him up a cup of tea, and life returned to normal on the Enterprise. The decks were cleaned and holystoned. The pigtailed captain stood there, watching through the fog. The bell sounded seven bells in the middle watch, and the bedding was brought up from below. Crystina came up from below, dressed in something more appropriate for the morning watch than the nightgown she was seen in when they beat to quarters.
Just at he turned to go below to get ready for the day, Ranma's danger sense began screaming "Danger Will Robinson! Danger! Danger" to him. Turning, he saw about a dozen flashes in a fog bank about 2 or 3 cable lengths off the bow. "DOWN! EVERYONE DOWN!" Ranma shouted, as he and the rest of the crew dove for the deck.
A dozen cannonballs came screaming across the deck, hitting spars, rigging, sails, masts, and anyone unlucky enough to be too slow in responding to Ranma's sudden shouts were hit by falling debris. Shroud and stay lines snapped; the fore yard came crashing down on the deck, catching a couple of crewmen. Out of the fog, came gliding the red and black nightmare, the Acheron. As she approached the Enterprise's port side, the slaver opened up with a tremendous barrage of fire from her own Lantan artillery and ballistae mounted on her decks. Enterprise's gunners returned fire in a ragged broadside. The Acheron swung around the Enterprise's stern and opened fire, the shot raking through Ranma's quarters.
"Hard to starboard," Ranma ordered, as he made his way back to the quarterdeck, through the debris and bodies.
"Aye sir, hard to starboard," the helmsman repeated. The bow of the Enterprise swung around, painfully slow. "Sir, my helm's hard over."
"Very well, keep her hard to starboard," Ranma replied, leaving the quarterdeck for the gun deck.
"Fire as your guns bear," Crystina shouted on the gun deck. In a rolling procession, the portside 24 pounders and carronades began firing. The next volley from the Acheron smashed into the wheel, before the black and red frigate disappeared into a fogbank.
"Sir," the quartermaster shouted, "helm's been shot away."
"Kuso," the pigtailed warrior muttered, as he looked towards the Acheron's fog-shrouded form. He couldn't tell if she was coming closer, moving away, or turning to attack again. He picked up a speaking trumpet. "Clear the wounded and prepare to repel boarders!"
The idlers and waisters began clearing the decks of the wounded and dead, bringing them below to Bereth, Maya, and Kasumi. Killick, a dwarven blacksmith who'd followed the infantry and was pressed into service as Ranma's servant, came stumping up to the quarterdeck, Ranma's sword and belt in hand. Swords and cutlasses were handed around to the crew, elven archers and human musketeers climbed up the rigging to the fighting tops to rain death from above.
Of course, even on a different planet, with different gods, they continued to prove the old saw that they protect fools, drunks, children and ships named ‘Enterprise'. The Enterprise drifted in the light breezes, her course determined by the set of her surviving sails, the crew anxiously awaiting attack from any quarter. An order for the ship to be quiet was passed fore and aft, as the damaged frigate ghosted in and out of fogbanks as the day wore on, and the sun began to sink in the west. "Milord," Crystina said quietly, "I think they've sailed off."
"I wouldn't be a bit surprised," Ranma replied. "Stand the crew down from quarters, Crystina and commence repairs. Mr. Lambe reported four feet of water in the hold. Keep the pumps manned throughout the night."
"Yes milord," Crystina replied. She turned and relayed the orders, as Bereth came up from below, a sheet of paper in his hand.
"Here's the roster for Kelemvor. 15 dead, 30 seriously wounded, and 25 minor wounds. Midshipman Avery's suffered a depressed skull fracture; he's not expected to survive the night."
"Wonderful," Ranma replied, wryly, as the clanking of the chain pumps came up from the open hatchway. "Do what you can to ease their passing. Have the watch stream the best bower anchor, to keep us into the wind. I'm going below."
00000
The watch was piped up, beginning the next day. However, instead of the usual routine, hammers, axes and saws began chipping away at the damaged areas of the ship. Sailcloth was streamed around the hull of the ship; the holes in her side patched with the cloth and bungs pounded in. It wasn't the best system, however it did allow for hull to remain watertight. Ranma was on the quarterdeck, seen arguing with the master about putting into the coast of Sembia and spend three weeks crawling around for a tree the right size to replace the damaged mizzen.
The hands were piped below for dinner, and Ranma disappeared into his cabin to first write up his logs and to eat. While dealing with a seasick priestess of his wife, Ranma struck up a friendship with Maya. In a way, they were both outcasts in their families; Ranma because he went against his father's wishes, and Maya because she refused to worship a goddess of treachery and deceit. Granted it hadn't helped that Maya had spent the past two tendays leaning over the rail, as the Enterprise patrolled The Neck. The pigtailed husband of Eilistraee kept to one side of the quarterdeck, while she continued to retch over the side. Bereth had tried magic and Kasumi had tried herbs, to no avail for her. It was a problem with Maya's inner ear, and it was just going to take her time to get her sea legs. Of course, the continual pounding of the cannon as the gun crews were trained and became proficient in their use didn't help the seasick priestess. One thing he began trying with her was playing a musical instrument, as a distraction. The pigtailed martial artist had picked up the violin in the very short time that he, Eilistraee, and Nabiki were at Okayama High; and, after a rough start, had become surprisingly proficient in its play. Of course, Eilistraee turned it into a challenge to the martial artist.
Maya joined him in his cabin, and began plucking the strings of her cello. "How's this," she asked. "Or would you prefer something more...aggressive?" There was a hint of amusement in her voice, since the pigtailed martial artist had spent the last twenty days sailing in a circle, investigating each ship that came near The Neck. At least until the Acheron showed up and blasted the hell out of the Enterprise.
Ranma counted out in time with her plucking, nodding his assent as he took up the bow of his instrument. The strains of a Mozart violin concerto began coming through the open windows of the cabin. "Here we go again. Saw, saw, saw. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Nothing you can dance to," complained Khillegh, as he prepared Ranma's meal.
As a priestess of Eilistraee, one of her requirements was to take up a musical instrument, since the goddess is a patron of music. Normally Maya played a small lyre since it was small enough not to be noticed or commented on by her sisters. However, since returning to Toril, the Drow priestess had somehow acquired a cello. The two devotees of Eilistraee, husband and priestess, became fast friends, and musicians. When Maya wasn't puking her guts out topside, that is. "So, what happens next," Maya asked, as they played.
"As soon as the crew and ship are ready, we're going to chase after them. I'm not going to let them get to Zhentil Keep," he replied, setting down his violin.
Maya set her bow down. "Have a care, Ranma," she said plainly. "That smacks of vengeance, which can only bring about your demise. You, of all people, should know that Eilistraee wouldn't honor this request. Unless it affects her fight with your mother-in-law."
"Maya, you don't think I know who set up this attack, but believe me, I do. Out of all the drow deities, only Lloth knows where we live. And if she didn't know before the wedding, she knew after. She set up an attack right after we moved to the Shrine, just before Eil-chan set up the wards against scrying.
"Besides, Eil-chan is pregnant."
The glass of wine Maya was holding slipped out of her numb hand, and shattered on the oak deck. "H-how do you know that?"
Ranma smirked his trademark smirk. "I was trained to be the best martial artist of my generation. Which includes reading auras, although it wasn't easy when I started. Before I left for my training trip, Eil-chan had aura in addition to her normal one, which is tight, like a watch spring when it's just wound. This other aura told me that she'd fight to save her unborn child. From anything or one."
"Oh my," Maya replied.
There was a knock at the door, and Mr. Bush stuck his head in. "With Mr. Lambe's compliment's Captain, the ship's as ready as she'll ever be."
"Very good, Mr. Bush," Ranma replied. "Set as much sail as she'll take. I want to capture these bastards."
"Aye sir. Cor'sails and stun'sails, sir." The third lieutenant nodded, and left the Ranma's cabin.
Enterprise Errata:
Enterprise was constructed at Hartt Shipyards, Boston, Massachusetts, as was her sister ship, USS Constitution, and launched Christmas Day, 1797, and is officially rated as a Fifth Rate, or heavy, frigate, although could be considered a Fourth Rate ship of the line, because of the number of guns. She served in the Caribbean Sea, hunting pirates after serving with the Constitution during America's Quasi-War with France (1798).
During the War of 1812, the Enterprise engaged a convoy escorted by HMS Adamant, a 4th Rate Ship of the Line, inbound to the island of St. Kitts. Enterprise successfully beat off the larger ship and captured several prizes.
In 1813, the Enterprise returned to Boston for refitting and rearmament, before sailing to the Mediterranean Sea for continued antipiracy duties in 1814. She was last seen off Cape Cod, New Year's Day, 1815, and failed to report to her station in the Mediterranean. The information below represents her armament and crew as of her recommissioning in late 1814.
Tonnage: 2,200 tons
Length: 204' (overall)
174'10" (gun deck)
145' (keel)
Beam: 43'6"
Deck height: 7' (between gun and spar decks)
6' 4" (gun and berth decks)
Draft: 21' (forward)
23' (aft)
Crew: 38 Officers, 376 enlisted, 59 Marines
Rig: Full-rigged ship (43,710 square ft of sail)
Armament:
30 24-pounder long guns
20 32-pounder carronades
2 24-pounder bow chasers
Bring Dramamine, ye be warned.
AN: For those of you who've noted it, I'm aware that the original USS Enterprise was a sloop-of-war; but please forgive this humble author for a little literary license. Especially since I was originally going to use the oldest ship in commission, and pride of the US Navy, the USS Constitution, but decided against it. And using a frigate named Enterprise is just too good pass up.
00000
Eilistraee weakly opened her eyes, revealing to her a dimly lit cargo hold. As her eyes adjusted to the infrared spectrum, she was able to see around, and discern the various heat patterns available to her. The wooden hull of the ship was generally a cold blue, although there were warmer areas, showing her where the shipworms were munching their way through the thick oak timbers and the rats that infested the hidden areas of the ship. Nabiki, she saw, was lying nearby, either asleep or unconscious; when the goddess tried to move towards her priestess, chains rattled and held her back. But the Japanese drow was breathing easily, which alleviated some of the goddess's fear. As did the fact that her morning sickness had yet to return.
She took stock of her tactical situation. She was chained to the bulkhead of a frigate, the Manacles of Bhaal snug around her wrists, severing her connection to her worshippers and clerical orders, thus sapping both her spiritual strength as well as her physical strength. Stagnant seawater sloshed around the decking, soaking her clothes and chilling her to the core. The creak of timbers and ropes under the strain of full sail, the rush of water against the hull of the merchantman, the gruff shouting of orders, and the squeal of gun trucks as the ship's main armament was moved into position on the deck above her. Eilistraee almost missed a light, almost musical chuckle just within earshot. "So, the traitor is my prisoner," a voice said with cold amusement. "Now then, where is the strength that killed my sister, eh? And where is your pathetic defender of the faith?"
Eilistraee turned to her captor, her chains rattling as she moved. "And who might you be, child," she asked.
There was the noise of a cloak hood lowering, and the shuffle and splash of soft boots against the sodden deck. "I am Faeryl," she declared, "eldest of the Spider-Queen's priestesses of House Zauvir, now that my sister is dead. I suppose I should thank you for that."
"And what have I done to you or your family, child," the goddess asked.
Faeryl smirked, her cold, almost predatory beauty enhanced by the smirk. "My goddess has charged our family with a holy quest..."
"Surely you're not seeking the Holy Grail," Eilistraee interrupted, with her own humor laden smirk.
"No, we aren't, defiler," Faeryl sneered. "Lloth demands either you or your head. Whether we provide one or the other to her is acceptable, and will ensure our elevation as the preeminent Drow House." This was, of course, followed by the appropriate sinister laughter.
"You do realize, Faeryl, that my husband will move the heavens and earth to rescue Nabiki and myself," Eilistraee replied with all the confidence in the multiverse.
"Your ‘husband' is merely a pathetic human male," Faeryl snorted. "His defeat of our weapons master was pure luck. Your faith in him is misplaced."
"Be that as it may be, child, but he will come. And he will do what is necessary, including kill you, ‘pathetic' human male or not."
Faeryl's response was to merely walk back to her cabin, leaving the imprisoned goddess and her unconscious priestess in the hold.
"Ooh, my head," Nabiki said, as she slowly regained consciousness some hours after Faeryl left. "Did someone get the license plate of that tractor trailer?" Eilistraee chuckled lightly at her Japanese priestess's comment. "Where are we?"
"Prisoners aboard a slaver," the Drow goddess replied. "Probably on our way to meet my darling mother."
"What? How did that happen? And why am I chained to the wall?"
"For the same reason that I am," she replied, bringing up her manacled hands. "At least your manacles don't strip you of your powers.
"How much do you remember the attack on the shrine?"
"I don't. I was sleeping at the time," Nabiki replied honestly.
Eilistraee adjusted as much as her bindings would allow. "It was the kind of night that my mother and her worshipers like: overcast and moonless. The Zhentish soldiers and Yakuza came in through the national preserve that borders the shrine." She sighed, and began telling her priestess how they wound up in this predicament. At least, she thought, it will pass the time.
00000
The Enterprise glided silently through the waters of The Neck, the straits between the Dragonmere and the Sea of Fallen Stars, through patches of fog. One of the junior officers of the Company had the deck; two of his companions had the watch. Looking through the glass, Subaltern Avery caught the barest glimpse of sail through a fog bank. "What is it," Subaltern Jones asked, as Avery lowered the glass.
"I thought I saw, just for a moment, a sail in the fog."
"Where?"
"A point off the starboard bow, in the fogbank."
Jones held his glass to his eye, and looked in the direction specified. "I don't see anything now. Are you sure it was a sail?"
"Positive. Just for a moment, though. What should we do? Should we beat to quarters?"
"You have the deck, Avery," Jones said.
"But what if it was just a fisherman?"
"Then it wouldn't be an exercise in futility," the third Subaltern, McKimmson, added, as he lowered his glass. "It would be good practice for the crew."
Avery began waffling, as Jones looked aft, past the expectant forecastle crewmen. "We shall beat to quarters!"
The watch drummers began beating "Quarters"; bosun's mates began blowing their pipes, waking the slumbering watch. The crew rushed about the ship to their specific battlestations, while the hammocks were being brought up from below. Gun crews manned their artillery, as ship's boys ran below, to the powder magazines to run pre-measured charges of black powder back up to the guns. The kitchen fires, just stoked for breakfast, were doused, sending up clouds of steam through their flues. Bulkheads disappeared on the gun deck, as Ranma came out of his quarters, throwing a jacket on. Down in the cockpit, Bereth and Kasumi prepared their station for the injuries that were sure to happen.
Ranma walked forward, a glass in hand. "What is it?"
"I thought...for a moment sir, I thought I saw a sail; a point off the starboard bow, in the fogbank."
Ranma looked at the three subalterns. "Did anyone else see it?"
"No sir," Jones said.
Ranma stood there, looking through his glass towards where the ghost may have been seen. He lowered it after a few moments. "Very well then; we'll keep the guns run out, and continue on with the morning. After breakfast, we'll exercise the guns," he said to his assembled officers, but not taking his eyes off the fogbank. They acknowledged his orders, and left the pigtailed martial artist watching the fog.
The frigate sailed through a dead quiet sea, with only the rush of water beneath her hull and the barest whisper of wind through her rigging, coasting in and out of the fogbanks. Ranma continued to stand at the bow of his ship, watching the fog, even as his steward brought him up a cup of tea, and life returned to normal on the Enterprise. The decks were cleaned and holystoned. The pigtailed captain stood there, watching through the fog. The bell sounded seven bells in the middle watch, and the bedding was brought up from below. Crystina came up from below, dressed in something more appropriate for the morning watch than the nightgown she was seen in when they beat to quarters.
Just at he turned to go below to get ready for the day, Ranma's danger sense began screaming "Danger Will Robinson! Danger! Danger" to him. Turning, he saw about a dozen flashes in a fog bank about 2 or 3 cable lengths off the bow. "DOWN! EVERYONE DOWN!" Ranma shouted, as he and the rest of the crew dove for the deck.
A dozen cannonballs came screaming across the deck, hitting spars, rigging, sails, masts, and anyone unlucky enough to be too slow in responding to Ranma's sudden shouts were hit by falling debris. Shroud and stay lines snapped; the fore yard came crashing down on the deck, catching a couple of crewmen. Out of the fog, came gliding the red and black nightmare, the Acheron. As she approached the Enterprise's port side, the slaver opened up with a tremendous barrage of fire from her own Lantan artillery and ballistae mounted on her decks. Enterprise's gunners returned fire in a ragged broadside. The Acheron swung around the Enterprise's stern and opened fire, the shot raking through Ranma's quarters.
"Hard to starboard," Ranma ordered, as he made his way back to the quarterdeck, through the debris and bodies.
"Aye sir, hard to starboard," the helmsman repeated. The bow of the Enterprise swung around, painfully slow. "Sir, my helm's hard over."
"Very well, keep her hard to starboard," Ranma replied, leaving the quarterdeck for the gun deck.
"Fire as your guns bear," Crystina shouted on the gun deck. In a rolling procession, the portside 24 pounders and carronades began firing. The next volley from the Acheron smashed into the wheel, before the black and red frigate disappeared into a fogbank.
"Sir," the quartermaster shouted, "helm's been shot away."
"Kuso," the pigtailed warrior muttered, as he looked towards the Acheron's fog-shrouded form. He couldn't tell if she was coming closer, moving away, or turning to attack again. He picked up a speaking trumpet. "Clear the wounded and prepare to repel boarders!"
The idlers and waisters began clearing the decks of the wounded and dead, bringing them below to Bereth, Maya, and Kasumi. Killick, a dwarven blacksmith who'd followed the infantry and was pressed into service as Ranma's servant, came stumping up to the quarterdeck, Ranma's sword and belt in hand. Swords and cutlasses were handed around to the crew, elven archers and human musketeers climbed up the rigging to the fighting tops to rain death from above.
Of course, even on a different planet, with different gods, they continued to prove the old saw that they protect fools, drunks, children and ships named ‘Enterprise'. The Enterprise drifted in the light breezes, her course determined by the set of her surviving sails, the crew anxiously awaiting attack from any quarter. An order for the ship to be quiet was passed fore and aft, as the damaged frigate ghosted in and out of fogbanks as the day wore on, and the sun began to sink in the west. "Milord," Crystina said quietly, "I think they've sailed off."
"I wouldn't be a bit surprised," Ranma replied. "Stand the crew down from quarters, Crystina and commence repairs. Mr. Lambe reported four feet of water in the hold. Keep the pumps manned throughout the night."
"Yes milord," Crystina replied. She turned and relayed the orders, as Bereth came up from below, a sheet of paper in his hand.
"Here's the roster for Kelemvor. 15 dead, 30 seriously wounded, and 25 minor wounds. Midshipman Avery's suffered a depressed skull fracture; he's not expected to survive the night."
"Wonderful," Ranma replied, wryly, as the clanking of the chain pumps came up from the open hatchway. "Do what you can to ease their passing. Have the watch stream the best bower anchor, to keep us into the wind. I'm going below."
00000
The watch was piped up, beginning the next day. However, instead of the usual routine, hammers, axes and saws began chipping away at the damaged areas of the ship. Sailcloth was streamed around the hull of the ship; the holes in her side patched with the cloth and bungs pounded in. It wasn't the best system, however it did allow for hull to remain watertight. Ranma was on the quarterdeck, seen arguing with the master about putting into the coast of Sembia and spend three weeks crawling around for a tree the right size to replace the damaged mizzen.
The hands were piped below for dinner, and Ranma disappeared into his cabin to first write up his logs and to eat. While dealing with a seasick priestess of his wife, Ranma struck up a friendship with Maya. In a way, they were both outcasts in their families; Ranma because he went against his father's wishes, and Maya because she refused to worship a goddess of treachery and deceit. Granted it hadn't helped that Maya had spent the past two tendays leaning over the rail, as the Enterprise patrolled The Neck. The pigtailed husband of Eilistraee kept to one side of the quarterdeck, while she continued to retch over the side. Bereth had tried magic and Kasumi had tried herbs, to no avail for her. It was a problem with Maya's inner ear, and it was just going to take her time to get her sea legs. Of course, the continual pounding of the cannon as the gun crews were trained and became proficient in their use didn't help the seasick priestess. One thing he began trying with her was playing a musical instrument, as a distraction. The pigtailed martial artist had picked up the violin in the very short time that he, Eilistraee, and Nabiki were at Okayama High; and, after a rough start, had become surprisingly proficient in its play. Of course, Eilistraee turned it into a challenge to the martial artist.
Maya joined him in his cabin, and began plucking the strings of her cello. "How's this," she asked. "Or would you prefer something more...aggressive?" There was a hint of amusement in her voice, since the pigtailed martial artist had spent the last twenty days sailing in a circle, investigating each ship that came near The Neck. At least until the Acheron showed up and blasted the hell out of the Enterprise.
Ranma counted out in time with her plucking, nodding his assent as he took up the bow of his instrument. The strains of a Mozart violin concerto began coming through the open windows of the cabin. "Here we go again. Saw, saw, saw. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Nothing you can dance to," complained Khillegh, as he prepared Ranma's meal.
As a priestess of Eilistraee, one of her requirements was to take up a musical instrument, since the goddess is a patron of music. Normally Maya played a small lyre since it was small enough not to be noticed or commented on by her sisters. However, since returning to Toril, the Drow priestess had somehow acquired a cello. The two devotees of Eilistraee, husband and priestess, became fast friends, and musicians. When Maya wasn't puking her guts out topside, that is. "So, what happens next," Maya asked, as they played.
"As soon as the crew and ship are ready, we're going to chase after them. I'm not going to let them get to Zhentil Keep," he replied, setting down his violin.
Maya set her bow down. "Have a care, Ranma," she said plainly. "That smacks of vengeance, which can only bring about your demise. You, of all people, should know that Eilistraee wouldn't honor this request. Unless it affects her fight with your mother-in-law."
"Maya, you don't think I know who set up this attack, but believe me, I do. Out of all the drow deities, only Lloth knows where we live. And if she didn't know before the wedding, she knew after. She set up an attack right after we moved to the Shrine, just before Eil-chan set up the wards against scrying.
"Besides, Eil-chan is pregnant."
The glass of wine Maya was holding slipped out of her numb hand, and shattered on the oak deck. "H-how do you know that?"
Ranma smirked his trademark smirk. "I was trained to be the best martial artist of my generation. Which includes reading auras, although it wasn't easy when I started. Before I left for my training trip, Eil-chan had aura in addition to her normal one, which is tight, like a watch spring when it's just wound. This other aura told me that she'd fight to save her unborn child. From anything or one."
"Oh my," Maya replied.
There was a knock at the door, and Mr. Bush stuck his head in. "With Mr. Lambe's compliment's Captain, the ship's as ready as she'll ever be."
"Very good, Mr. Bush," Ranma replied. "Set as much sail as she'll take. I want to capture these bastards."
"Aye sir. Cor'sails and stun'sails, sir." The third lieutenant nodded, and left the Ranma's cabin.
Enterprise Errata:
Enterprise was constructed at Hartt Shipyards, Boston, Massachusetts, as was her sister ship, USS Constitution, and launched Christmas Day, 1797, and is officially rated as a Fifth Rate, or heavy, frigate, although could be considered a Fourth Rate ship of the line, because of the number of guns. She served in the Caribbean Sea, hunting pirates after serving with the Constitution during America's Quasi-War with France (1798).
During the War of 1812, the Enterprise engaged a convoy escorted by HMS Adamant, a 4th Rate Ship of the Line, inbound to the island of St. Kitts. Enterprise successfully beat off the larger ship and captured several prizes.
In 1813, the Enterprise returned to Boston for refitting and rearmament, before sailing to the Mediterranean Sea for continued antipiracy duties in 1814. She was last seen off Cape Cod, New Year's Day, 1815, and failed to report to her station in the Mediterranean. The information below represents her armament and crew as of her recommissioning in late 1814.
Tonnage: 2,200 tons
Length: 204' (overall)
174'10" (gun deck)
145' (keel)
Beam: 43'6"
Deck height: 7' (between gun and spar decks)
6' 4" (gun and berth decks)
Draft: 21' (forward)
23' (aft)
Crew: 38 Officers, 376 enlisted, 59 Marines
Rig: Full-rigged ship (43,710 square ft of sail)
Armament:
30 24-pounder long guns
20 32-pounder carronades
2 24-pounder bow chasers