The New Recruit [Corsair]

[Deleted]

Irwin was resting on one of the chairs in the bridge, scowling so hard you'd think he'd burst a blood vessel. His arms were folded and he sat hunched, his leg prominently covered in a see-through cast with the outward bone structure depicted on the outside, so you could see the progress being made. The rest of the crew milled around, Lars trying to comfort him, Dax standing stock still in the corner and Ood quietly cleaning the table in the corner. Dante herself was steering the ship into the spaceport of a small yet busy, backwater planet that didn't ask questions about anything.

"It's not going to be for long Irwin, it's not as if it's permanent or anything." Lars tried resting a hand on the man's shoulder. Dante leaned against the controls and lazily piloting the ship into the busy spaceport. Smaller ships just got out of the way of The Vanquisher, and some big ones too. The pirate crew of Dante and Co. was well known throughout the crime underworld of the galaxies, as was the ship. Sometimes, being well known was a good thing - it got you free food, for instance. But at others it could just be a nuisance.

"It's just until your leg's better, can't have you going on raids like that. What're you gonna do, knock them out the way with your crutches?" Dante chuckled, eliciting a bitter chortle from Irwin which basically said that 'yes, he would damn well try'. "No, mate. It's better for all of us if we get this new member until then, don't want you out of action for any longer than you 'ave to be." Dante reasoned, docking gently into port and opening the personnel door. Irwin scowled but said nothing, turning back to the controls. Lars shrugged at Dante, before joining her at the door with Dax in tow. Lars and Dax stood either side of the steps, with Dante lounging on the steps, picking breakfast out of her teeth with a toothpick. If this new recruit was going to come, then let them. They were ready.

[Deleted]

The "new recruit", utterly unaware that she was about to become the new recruit, walked though the crowded streets of the spaceport like a tiny icebreaker. Despite her comparitively diminuitive size - less than five and a half feet - she moved like she expected people to get out of her way. And, for some reason, most people did without hesitation.

Her arrival had prompted no small degree of commotion. That tends to happen when a replica of a 38-gun wooden sailing ship drops out of hyperspace, broadcasting transponder codes for a man that hadn't been seen in port for a decade, and crewed by a woman.

"I've met the Corsair," insisted 'Long Tom' Kalvath, the meter-tall Kellachian who ran the second watch of traffic control with an iron fist. "Twelve years ago, I did."

"Yeah, I remember you," the Corsair said, glaring at him through the viewscreen. "Long Tom, right?"

"Everyone knows me," he snapped back, clicking his secondary mandables for emphasis. "And I can tell mammals apart. You're too short, and your ventral surface is too lumpy - which, as I recall, means that you are a female of the species. Which the Corsair is not."

The Corsair rolled her eyes. "Right. Look, you got me, okay? He lost his identity and ship to me in a game of drift. So, now I'm the Corsair."

Long Tom considered that, throat sac inflating with a sound like orgasmic bagpipes. It made sense, yes. "Very well. We'll send a landing vector."

She'd barely made it down. Without crashing, that is. Her poor patchwork TARDIS was in desperate need of parts and maintenance, and power cutouts were a chronic problem. Agravatics were a nightmare to keep functioning, and a microhop through the Vortex was right out. Fortunatly, given the kind of patrons this port catered to, they were accustomed to ships with significant navigational problems. They'd even managed to scare up a berth that allowed for water landings.

So now, the Corsair stalked through the streets of the port city. There was a specific merchant she was looking for, a rogue Yithian who specialized in exotic ship components for 'discerning collectors'. She didn't really expect that any significant TARDIS parts to be available - before the War, that sort of thing carried an immediate death penalty if the Lords learned of it. And now that Gallifrey was (so far as she'd been able to tell) gone, she didn't think there were TARDIS components lying around. But still, if anyone either had them or could point her in the right direction, it would be old Yipthak.

Hopefully he'd gotten over that time she'd trod on his throat after pistol-whipping him. There hadn't been anything personal in it, after all...