Art:AADM/Second round/Three Strikes

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This is an entry in the second round of the Author's Author Deathmatch. For more information on this event, please see the YPPedia page and the forum topic.

The Short

Quoteleft.png Ajax watched as his captain’s bishop slashed through his defenses. “Traps within traps, my boy, that’s how it’s done,” the ancient pirate crowed, quaffing the drink that a trembling cabin boy presented. The ship rocked, shaking the ivory pieces on the board slightly as Ajax intently studied the board. “You forgot something, old man. Checkmate.” His adversary paused, the smug grin on his complexion giving way to a confused frown. Reaching for his king, he managed a “No it isn—“ before he slumped, succumbing to his drink’s poison. Quoteright.png

Checkmate (Nanofiction)

The Entry

The door to the Royal Naval Training Facility swung open, and the imposing figure of Commander Ellison stood in the doorway. His deep voice boomed, "Lieutenant Ajax!"


Ajax turned and sharply saluted his superior officer. His sparring partner, Theodore, who was mid-swing when Ellison entered, delivered a sharp blow to Ajax's upper arm with his stick. Ajax winced, but didn't budge.


"Ajax," Ellison continued, walking up to the two lieutenants, "I have an assignment for you that I think you'll find quite interesting. Please follow me to my office." Just then, Ellison ripped the stick out of Ajax's hand and slashed viciously at Theodore's upper arm, immediately causing a large welt.

Theodore cried out in pain, and protested, "It was an accident!"

"I'm aware of that," replied Ellison coolly, "but you didn't salute when I entered." And with that, he ushered Ajax out of the room.




As Ajax entered Ellison's office, he marveled at his commander's decorating style. There were no portraits or landscapes along the walls or on Ellison's sizeable desk. The walls were packed with admiring paintings of various vessels in His Majesty's Naval Fleet. Not a speck of wood could be seen on the desk, covered as it was in battle plans, ship blueprints, and official reports. As Ajax took a comfortable seat, Ellison began to speak.


"Here's the situation. There are three pirate captains who base their operations from Trafalgar Isle. Each of them has eluded capture on numerous occasions. They have caused innumerable casualties among my men, and have sunk millions of pounds' worth of vessels and cargo. They know all of our nautical tactics. They know all of our commanding officers by name, date of birth, and foot size. Their crews are swelling, and their respective influences show no signs of waning. I want you to take them all down."


Ajax's eyes narrowed, and then he spoke. "Commander, I enjoy a good joke as much as the next gentleman. But I ought to be spending my time training, not sharing a hearty laugh."


Ellison smiled. "Oh, it's no joke, Lieutenant. Of course, I wouldn't think of pitting you against them vessel to vessel. You're quite skilled for your youth, but you wouldn't stand a chance against any one of them. No - I have a different plan in mind. You'll arrest them from the inside."


"I'm not sure I quite follow, sir."

"We're going to make you a pirate for the next year or two. We'll ferry you out to Trafalgar, and you'll sign up in one of their crews. Once you have an opportunity to arrest the captain without provoking the crew, you'll do so. Our agents will bring you both back here, where he'll be jailed and you'll be debriefed. Then we'll send you back out to repeat the process two more times."

"I hate to backtrack, sir, but - did you say a 'year or two'?"

Ellison sighed. "Yes, Lieutenant. This is a very important bit of espionage we're asking of you. Other than your debriefings with me, you will not set foot on this island. Most importantly, you will not have any contact with your wife or your daughter. If you are found out, it would put them in terrible danger."

Ajax's expression hardened as he considered this new particular. "And - hypothetically, sir - what would happen if I refused?"

Ellison snorted. "A trial for desertion of duty, a quick conviction, and probably a firing squad at dawn. Hypothetically."

Ajax betrayed no emotion at this, but took a moment before he spoke. "Then, sir, I accept the assignment."

Ellison smiled darkly. "Wonderful."




Two days later, Ajax stepped off the naval dinghy. "'Ferry,' he said," he growled angrily to no one in particular, his arms still sore from the constant rowing. As he took a moment to gather himself, he looked around at the local activity.


On Trafalgar Isle, there are only two "local activities." One is drinking, and the other is unprintable. Years of pirate influence had scrubbed the island of any honest industry, but made it a great place to go for a bachelor party.


Ajax, however, was more concerned with his first target: Captain Robeson of the Cardinel Sins. The crew was well aware of the misspelling of their name, but took it as a badge of honor. Robeson had no interest in exuding an intellectual air.


Ajax, who had never before set foot on Trafalgar, searched for a place where he might "sign up" with the Sins. Fortunately, the Sins were also searching for pirates to hire.


"The great Captain Robeson needs fresh hands!" came a voice from Block and Fall, the largest of several inns on the street. "Head to the docks for fast money and flowing blood! We'll take any able-bodied men!"


Ajax shrugged, and wandered over to the docks, where several Sins officers were shepherding scraggy men onto a large vessel. Ajax got in line and was quickly shoved aboard.




It turns out it doesn't take much to pass as a pirate. Ajax was well-trained and adept at all facets of ship maintenance, and easily impressed the ship's officers. At night, he kept to himself, but since most of the other pirates were roaring drunk, no one paid him any mind. Ajax didn't swear, didn't drink, and didn't discuss women. He was an anomaly, but none of the other men aboard ever thought about it. Pirates, Ajax reasoned, don't care about other people. In this case, that suited him just fine.


Robeson was another matter. The constantly grinning captain seemed to like Ajax, who was one of his best and least whiny workers, but the feeling was not mutual. Robeson apparently relied on the law of averages for his workforce. He took on about double the pirates he needed for a voyage, then simply killed off the weakest workers. Over the weeks, Ajax had seen slackers bound, gagged, and tossed overboard; stabbed through the heart; keelhauled; and in one particularly cruel case, an older fellow who dared refer to Robeson as "that short man with the expensive hat" was tied to the mainmast and ignored as he slowly starved. At least, Robeson ignored him - the rest of the pirates found it difficult to put the moaning and pleading out of their minds, but didn't rescue the man for fear of replacing him.


As a naval officer, Ajax instinctively went for his sword every time he saw such an injustice, but each time he controlled himself, trying to convince himself that no one on the ship had earned any mercy anyway.


Finally, after roughly five months (after the hundredth day, Ajax stopped keeping track), the ship approached Trafalgar Isle. As soon as the gangplank had been laid down, the surviving crew members ran off toward the taverns and cathouses with their ill-gotten gains. The officers left next, after ensuring that the ship was still in solid shape and ready to take back out in a few days. Only Robeson remained, still grinning, standing on the deck, looking over his fine, bloodstained ship. After sighing proudly to himself, he went to his quarters, took out a cigar, and lit it. He remained standing till the last leaf of tobacco had been consumed, crushed the remains in his hand, and dropped the ashes on the floor. As he prepared to leave, he felt a pinprick at the back of his neck, and heard the growl, "Don't turn around."


The grin disappeared from the captain's face. "Who's there?"


"You know me as Redfield, but that's not my given name. I'm Ajax - no, Lieutenant Ajax to you. And you, you slimy, half-pint halfwit, are under arrest."

"It's easy to talk big when you're holding a blade. But you're just a cowardly goody-goody pretending to be a real man. I should have known you were a liar - what you just said was more than I heard from you the whole voyage."

"It hurts to talk to someone as vulgar, weak-minded, and egotistical as you. Don't expect me to do it again." After a moment's silence, he continued, "And naval officers are real men. Pirates aren't."


Robeson chuckled, then flinched as his laughter pushed his neck back into the blade. "Sure, sure. If you'd stuck with us for another year, I don't think you'd ever want to go back to the offices and the desks and the yes-sir-thank-you-sirs. But - suit yourself. Let's get this over with."


In the usual Trafalgar tumult, no one noticed an old captain depart a ship, shadowed by a younger man. No one noticed as the younger led the elder to a small, unremarkable ship, or as two men appeared from its deck to tie up the elder and drag him aboard. No one noticed the ship quietly deport. Pirates, Ajax thought again, don't care about other people.




"Fantastic work, Lieutenant," said Commander Ellison, shaking Ajax's hand. "One down, two to go."

Ajax nodded. "You know, I could really use a bath. Any chance I can just have an hour to myself on the island? I feel filthy."

"You are. But we can't have you wandering around. As soon as we're done here, you'll be off again. You've only got a few days before your next target sets sail, and as you know, he won't be back in port for quite a while. Let's keep this running smoothly, shall we?"

Ajax sighed. "Fine. But this time, I'm being brought to Trafalgar by a crew, no?"

The commander scowled. "And what, pray tell, gives you the right to make that assumption?"

"Well, you wouldn't want me being found out because my arms are too sore to hoist rigging, would you?"

Ellison fixed Ajax with a long look. Finally, he said, "All right, you can have your little taxi service. You can meet them at the port."

"Thank you."

Ellison cleared his throat with a very loud "Ahem."

"What?" asked Ajax, confused. After a moment, he spoke. "Oh, right. Thank you, SIR."

"Have a nice trip, Lieutenant. Don't get killed."

"Same to you, sir." And with that, Ajax stood up and strolled out the door.




The Exits, Ajax's next assignment, did not take on all the warm bodies they could find, as the Sins had. They had a sense of loyalty and, to an extent, of justice. Still, they were always on the hunt for new crewmen, and Ajax was a prime specimen. He lacked the rum gut of most of the isle's denizens, and his royally toned muscles drew an officer's attention nearly as soon as he'd wandered into Block and Fall. It wasn't long before he found himself in the service of Captain Parris.


Surprisingly, Ajax found he got along with the Exits rather well. Many of them were well-educated, but all had grown bored of civilian life. Piracy was their chosen escape from the drudgery of the rat race, and they had found they were skilled at it.


They all drank, but few drank to excess, and Ajax soon joined their nightly fun. Several times, he tipsily expounded on imperial politics to his crewmates till the sun came up. He worried, after these all-nighters, that he would drunkenly reveal his secret, but managed to hold his tongue. Besides, the discussions of history and science were far too interesting, especially after a few drinks, to leave any room for dangerous revelations.


He did not get along, however, with Captain Parris. Though he was the titular leader of the Exits, Parris was the odd man out among them. He had neither the patience nor the vocabulary for long conversations, and he especially loved to punish those few fellows who, every morning, awoke with a hangover in the crow's nest. His preferred punishment was a whipping, administered personally. No Exit condoned these whippings, but no Exit lifted a hand to stop them. For some reason, Parris was not crossed once during three months of cruelty.


On precisely the hundredth day of the voyage, Ajax learned why. That night's revels were unusually quiet, and the drinking was unusually heavy. There was a great deal of whispering among the crew, but no grand debate as on most nights. Ajax was uncomfortable in the unfamiliar atmosphere. Seeing the confusion on Ajax's face, Samuel took him aside. "We're doin' it tomorrow."


"Doing what?"

"We're takin' the ship. Parrish won't know what hit 'im." Sam's breath stank of alcohol, and he seemed to be relying on Ajax for balance as much as he was confiding in him. "Bip, bam, zoom, Parrish in the brig 'n we got the boat. Our boat. Leasht it will be." Sam giggled for no apparent reason.

"And what happens to Parris when we hit port?"

"Who caresh? Leave 'im there for all I care. I dunno. Got any ideash?"


Ajax, feeling a little nervous, shook his head no.


"It'sh all right. We'll think o' shomethin'. Go to bed, it'sh gonna be a hell of a day tomorrow. I'm shtayin' up to keep watch." Sam wandered over to his post, sat down, and took another swig of rum. "Hell of a day. G'night!"


The next morning, Ajax came to the deck and saw, to his surprise, nothing out of the ordinary. Every man was hard at work, and for once, no one was asleep in the crow's nest. Samuel was the only exception. He stumbled around a bit from pirate to pirate, bleary-eyed both from the alcohol and the lack of sleep. Nevertheless, the ship was running quite smoothly.


It didn't last. A voice came from the stern, "Captain, I think we've got a problem over here. Can you help me out with this?"


Grumbling, the captain moved to the stern to inspect the issue. When he turned around, he found that the entire crew had massed as one in front of him, and Samuel led the throng. Sam held his sword, unsheathed, at his side. "Guesh what, Captain. We got a problem over here, too. Jusht come quietly and nothing will happen."


"How dare you!" sputtered Parris. He shouted at his second mate, "Tuck! Get me the whip for this mutineer!" Tuck didn't move, glaring at Parris with his arms crossed. Parris roared at him, "You too? Fine! What do you intend to do if I DON'T come quietly?"


Samuel didn't have an answer for that. He hesitated, then moved menacingly toward Parris, drunkenly hoping his advance would scare Parris into submission.


Ajax watched Samuel lurch toward his captain, sword in hand. Almost by instinct, he kicked a nearby bucket into Sam's path. Sam tripped on the bucket, and began to fall forward. He put his hands out to brace for the fall, but rather than hit the ground, he fell into Parris. His sword plunged deep into the startled captain's stomach. Sam stepped back in time to see his captain gasp twice for breath, then pitch forward, dead. No one moved a muscle.


Samuel, still drunk and stunned by this turn of events, didn't notice that he had fallen over a bucket. He assumed he'd simply lost his balance from the effect of the rum. Feeling guilty, he attempted to recover control of the situation. "Well, that sholvesh the problem of what to do with 'im, eh?" This was met with total silence.


Finally, Ajax spoke up. "Not quite. We've got a dead man on deck, now, and we'll have to deal with that. We'll be passing by my home island in the next day or so. If we draw close enough to land, I can take the body to the Royal Fort. You'll be absolved of responsibility, and the navy won't consider you a threat without your captain. You'll have a wide berth to do as you please for a little while, until they realize the Exits haven't had a lobotomy, but rather an appendectomy."


Samuel considered this for a moment, understanding it was probably the best to be made of a bad situation. But he couldn't help asking, "What'sh in it for you?"


"Well, it's been a while since I've been to any island besides Trafalgar. It'd be nice to go to a building that houses something other than rum or whores."


Sam chuckled. "Sho be it. Thanksh for everything."


A couple of days later, the crew tossed Parris's corpse overboard, and Ajax dove after it. As the boat drifted off toward Trafalgar, Ajax was sure he heard Samuel exclaim, "Onward to rum and whores!" Ajax laughed, and dragged his albatross toward the fort.




As Ajax made his way, corpse in tow, toward Ellison's office, he was vaguely aware of his fellow officers' astonished stares. He acknowledged no one.


Ultimately, he reached the office, kicked open the door, and threw Parris's wet, bloated body unceremoniously down on the desk. Ellison leapt up from his seat. "What on Earth is that?"


"That, Elly, is two down."

"Damn it, Lieutenant, I wanted him taken alive!"

"I didn't kill him, if that's any consolation. Maybe I should have."


Ellison glared angrily at Ajax. Ajax glared right back, but what was in his eyes wasn't quite anger. "Lieutenant, you're crossing the line now. Don't you dare give me another episode like this."


"I'm sorry to hear you don't trust me. Maybe you should take me off the assignment."

"Don't speak that way to me, Lieutenant."

"Or you'll do what?" Ajax grinned wildly, and rolled the corpse along the length of the desk, soaking beyond recognition every document upon it. "Two down, Elly. Two down. I'm the best man you've got. And I'm going to go finish the job." Before Ellison could formulate a reply, Ajax had stridden out the door. Ellison looked helplessly at the corpse saturating his elm-wood desk, and after a minute, sank down into his chair.




As Ajax stepped off the dinghy for the second time, he noticed a few things. One, his arms weren't sore like they were eight months ago. Two, the agents sent to await his capture of Parris had apparently given up waiting - they were carousing outside Block and Fall with the rest of the riffraff. Three, the Night Lights were about to set sail. Ajax rushed to the ship, where the officers were about to pull up the gangplank. "I'm coming with you."


The officers looked him up and down. Finally, one spoke. "No one told us there would be a new man aboard."


"I'm telling you now. I'm the best worker within fifty leagues. Don't get yourselves in trouble. Just let me on that ship."


The officers looked nervously at one another, none of them wanting to defy an order that none of them had received. They let him aboard.

The Night Lights were a pretty dim bunch all around. They worked hard, and didn't drink nearly as much as the Sins, but there was no spark in their work. Every man aboard seemed simply to go through the motions - an odd thing for a pirate. There was very little spoken on deck, and the captain rarely left his quarters.

Ajax, unexpectedly, was the liveliest pirate on the ship. He didn't intend to draw attention, but he worked with a fire none of the other pirates shared. The officers marveled at how he helped out with every part of the ship, every day. Often, they would find him hard at work, carving some new lever into the bilge pump, or rearranging some planks in the hull. They were astounded when he told them how his techniques would make the labor easier. They proudly kept Captain Merlin informed about the Big Scientist on board.

So Merlin was totally surprised when, a mere six weeks into the voyage, Ajax burst into his quarters. Ajax shouted at him, "So! You're number three, eh? Well, I'll give you a sporting chance. I'm Lieutenant Ajax of His Majesty's Royal Navy. I'm supposed to take you in to my superiors for questioning, but I haven't got the patience to wait till we hit land. So let's do this another way." Noting the elaborately carved chess set in the corner of the room (whose kings bore Merlin's face), he exclaimed, "I challenge you to a chess match. If I win, you turn the ship around and turn yourself in when we reach port. If I lose - well, I'll let you decide what to do with me then."

Merlin, tall, thin, and aged, crowed, "Ha! There's one duel I can't lose. I accept, and I hope you're ready to take your punishment."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes. But one moment - I'll need a drink." Ajax called to a passing cabin boy, "You there! Go fetch the extra-fine rum from my room. It's in the unopened blue bottle under my bed."

"Extra-fine, eh?" Merlin chortled. "Loyal or no, I hope you wouldn't dare drink before your old captain has a swig, eh?"

"Oh, sir, I wouldn't dream of it."




"Commander Ellison! Commander Ellison!" The door to Ellison's office burst open, and through it appeared a young, breathless lieutenant holding a single piece of paper.

"Lieutenant Percival? Aren't you supposed to be on patrol now?"

"Yes, sir, Commander, sir. But, you see, while I was on patrol, sir, we were intercepted. Their first mate handed me this paper, and then they left, sir."

"They left? Why didn't you arrest them?"

"Well, sir, we would have, but by then our hull had taken quite a few direct hits, and all our officers had been disarmed and forced to lie on the ground. So they just left, sir, and then we came back here."

Ellison put his head in his hands. "Just give me the paper, Lieutenant, and get out of my sight."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Percival turned and fled out of the office.

Ellison sighed at the dwindling quality of recruits in recent months, then read the paper. It was a letter.




"Dear Commander Ellison: Normally a man of my profession does not communicate with naval officers, but in this case I believe you ought to hear this.


I have recently been aboard a ship belonging to the Night Lights. I'm sure you're familiar with that crew. Besides myself, there was no man alive on that ship. It had been carefully sabotaged, so that nearly every square inch of the ship became a lethal trap, set to go off simultaneously. Carpenters were impaled by nails, bilge-pumpers were drowned in filth, sailors were hung from the rigging.


But the worst of it was the captain's quarters. The captain lay across his personal chessboard, his hand still clutching the glass he was drinking from when he died. In his back was carved a single word: AJAX.


I am sure this Ajax was one of yours. Only your men have the training to massacre a ship full of men the way he did. But I am also sure you will not see this Ajax again. When I appeared, he was gone without a trace, and I don't believe he intends to return to the navy after soaking his hands in the blood of this crew.


Nevertheless, you deserve to hear what I know, and now you have. I will not communicate with you again. The ship has been sunk, and the crew of the Night Lights buried at the bottom of the sea. The matter is done. Goodbye, Commander Ellison.

Captain Redfield of Three Strikes"


Ellison bowed his head in silent prayer, both for Ajax and for the slain Night Lights. After a moment, though, he noticed writing on the back of the page, in a far less steady hand.


"P.S. Please tell my wife and daughter I loved them. Please tell them I died an honorable death."


Now Ellison sighed deeply. He ripped up the letter and burned the scraps. Then he walked into the Royal Naval Training Facility. He boomed, "Lieutenant Dixon!"


"Yes, sir?"

"I have an assignment for you that I think you'll find quite interesting."