The Beginning of the End of the Latest Pirate Queen Tale, or, The Queen Drives the Yellow Submarine

...As Shiro’s dying light bobbed ahead of me, I ran full tilt, heedless of rocks, holes, or any other obstructions.

The prospect of mayhem filled me with the same giddy joy a Girl Scout must feel when she crushes the opposition by selling 1,000 boxes of poisoned cookies to a charitable organization. Those Girl Scouts are second only to the ninjas on the Pirate Association's "Most Wanted Dead" List.

Still... Cookies... Mmmm. Now back to the story.

Anyway, though the sprint seemed to take only minutes, by the time Shiro had stopped in a small cavern, I was dripping with saltwater... unfortunately, it wasn't cool and refreshing Atlantic seawater, it was my own sweat. It was running into my eyes. Ick.

As much as I would like to believe that this was a devastatingly sexy look on me… I tend to doubt it. I mean, the fact is… other women “glow” when they work out… I on the other hand… Don’t. Seriously, it would take either true love, horniness on an Epic scale, or a serious vision impairment for any man to not run, shuddering, away from me when I’ve been running/rollerblading/hiking/etc.

When it comes to being glamorous and sexy, I’m a total Fail.

But, I digress.

This smaller cavern was still dark, dank, and unwelcoming, but it had a distinct advantage over the previous one, because it was stuffed chock full of submersible goodness. Oh yeah… before me in the water sat a lovely little submarine. Although I should probably have been thinking about how great it would be to get back to the Unvanquished, what I mostly thought was,

“Oooh… Shiny!”

My second thought was something like,

“I wonder how fast I can get it to top speed? I mean, I don’t have a license or anything… but how hard could it be to drive? It looks like a Volkswagen Bug for otters. Sweet… I wonder if it’s a standard or an automatic?”

At this point, Congeniality stumbled out of the passageway and into the cavern as well.

I growled.

“Hey Shiro,” I said, “I don’t suppose you have something Mr. Congeniality can wear do you? Every time I look at him my Twinkie threatens to leave my guts in an unpleasantly projectile-esque manner.”

For a second Shiro looked lost, and then realized I was referring to his brother. He snorted with laughter before reaching into what looked like an empty oil drum and pulling out some pants and a shirt and tossing them over. He added, “Congeniality… That’s good. Actually, his name is Andrew, but we generally refer to him as “Billie D” since he’s hoping that someday he’ll actually be smooth with the ladies.”

Congeniality, aka “Andrew” grunted as he pulled on jeans. “You’re just jealous. Look how much Queenie likes me already. Hey, Your Majesty, want to shiver my---“

Yeah, you guessed it. Before he could finish the inevitable “timbers” comment, I pushed him over and onto his backside in the sand. He lay there for a few minutes, laughing at me. Rotten smiling bastard.

(Trust me, as a pirate girl, I’ve heard them all… “swab my deck” “polish my turret”… For the love of Carlos, if you can’t be original, than just shut the hell up, would you? *sigh*)

Within 20 minutes, we were in the sub. Cozily packed in… that is, if by cozy you mean, the three of us were closer to one another than I’ve been to anyone since I got divorced. I think I still have the imprint of Andrew’s elbow in my ribs… Or was that Shiro’s? (At least, I sure hope it was an elbow). The point is, it was impossible to move in there… or at least not without provoking even more snarky commentary from Congeniality, a la, “Hey, Queenie, feel free to just, wiggle around a little more...”

Stupid smartass pirate.

I would’ve given anything for my multitool.

Needless to say, the sub could definitely move. Shiro plotted a course, and I got to steer (Damn, that was fun), and we zipped through the waters off of southern NH and straight to my little hidden cove.

We popped to the surface with a splash, in exactly the same way that a rock wouldn't, and it was the work of minutes for me to extricate myself from the sub, and swim as fast as I could to the side of my baby, shouting, “Ahoy there!” all the way.

Cosgrove and McMann lowered a rope to me, and I was hoisted up the side, to the sounds of cheering.

Still… What I found after the obligatory back-slapping and bear-hugging was disturbing.

One of my crew was not involved in the celebration. In fact, she was barely conscious.

It was “Iron” Morgan Kidd. Although she’d joined the crew just a few months earlier, she had distinguished herself with me by being both blood-thirsty and creative. She no longer looked blood-thirsty… Just… well, thirsty.

The Quartermaster rushed to explain.

“Lady, after making port in the harbor, we had all gone to hammock, when the man on deck saw a light. He was still for a few moments, and then heard the sound of Windows XP starting up. On further inspection, he realized that it was Morgan. She had smuggled a laptop aboard, installed a wireless router, and was sending Facebook messages to her cohorts, one of whom is Shiruken. She was just in process of revealing our hidden location, when McMann clubbed her over the head, and slammed the laptop shut.

We were waiting for your return in order to pass judgement on her behavior.”

For an instant, as I looked at Morgan’s wretched face, I felt an unbelievable sorrow rise up within me. Although I had suspected that there was indeed a ninja in our midst… Even someone with a soul as dark as mine can hope.

I crushed and shredded that hope like a wood chipper crushes the bones and sinews of traitorous mobsters.

I said, “Leave her for now… And bring me the laptop… I have some messages to send.”

Cosgrove raised his hand, and when I nodded to him he asked,

“What will we do tomorrow?”

Laughing, I made my usual reply…

“The same thing we do everyday, Brain… Take over the world.”

Then the Quartermaster passed me that traitor’s Toshiba… I opened it and began to type.