lucetilogs | Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die:

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Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die:

Who:

lists_to_port
What: Two Eighteenth-century Sailors and the Tractor That Didn't Love Them. And McCoy, covering his eyes.
When: Day 1 of the Draft; after this.
Where: A farm near the battlefield, and its surrounds.
Summary: Jack and Archie have decided to tend to matters of war, in spite of difficulties caused by shifting irregularities.
Rating: Jim Varney wearing John Goodman's trousers and Jed Clampett's hat.

The first thing Jack Sparrow noticed after being transported to the battlefield with the rest was what amounted to excruciating pain in his right arm.

His sword arm.

It dangled from his shoulder, badly broken and useless. And pink.

On his knees in a pile of dusty straw, Jack inspected the damage, and found it very bad indeed; he found he could not feel the fingers on his right hand at all. Clutching the useless limb to his chest, he looked about. "KENNEDY! BONES!" Where were they in this chaos?

...

And why was he COMPLETELY PINK?

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"Hard to starboard!" Kennedy confirmed as he veered to the right, aiming for the doctor. "Captain! She's refusing to haul down her colors! We may have to take her by force! ACKPHBBT!" That was the chicken on the steering wheel flapping its wings for balance and beating inconsiderately against his face.

Edited 2011-02-27 18:14 (UTC)

Sparrow simply allowed the chicken to stay. It wasn't doing harm at the moment and, with his arm in Kennedy's sling, there wasn't a lot he could do to bat it away.

"Right, right, just don't run him into the ground, boy! There's--"

At that moment, one of the Third Party soldiers managed to take them by surprise, clambering up to battle the pirate hand-to-hand on the hood. It was beginning to look like a near thing as the enemy struck at the pirate's broken arm. Jack fell to the hood in agony, only just clinging on to the tractor as he managed somehow to strike up and in, twisting his sword into the other fighter's gut. The winged figure dropped from the machine and was soon an obstacle to be rolled over as they veered toward McCoy.

As Jack Sparrow ran that soldier through, McCoy had also lifted his phaser and managed to fire off a short that caught the soldier right between the wings and he watched as he tumbled off the tractor and was soon run over by the overly-chipper lieutenant behind the wheel.

"Get that thing away from me," He shouted at the two of them as it veered towards him and he backed away. "This isn't a game!"

Kennedy pulled up beside the doctor with a gigantic grin. "Captain Sparrow, will you do the honors of capturing our wayward brother?" A soldier slung an arm around the lieutenant's neck and dragged him off the tractor, slitting this throat and leaving him to bleed out on the grass! Or would have, if Archie hadn't seen him coming and fought one-handed for a few seconds before flinging the chicken in his enemy's face and running him through while he was spitting feathers. The chicken survived the encounter, fortunately, although it landed awkwardly on the ground with its wings splayed. It tucked its feet under itself, delicately folded its wings, and clucked disapprovingly at the madman who threw it.

"Argh, McCoy! Arm's broken, mate."

Jack hugged the sling to himself as he sat atop Beastie. He glanced back at Archie, apparently not caring at all that the other man had just narrowly escaped death by virtue of a chicken. "Damn it, Kennedy! You want me to have to tell our Jilly you died this day? Stop hurling hens, boy! McCoy, get aboard, blast it!"

Stubbornly, he refused to move from the spot. "I'm not getting on that damn thing, Sparrow! Get off before you break something else -- both of you."

Archie laughed aloud and came about to larboard, circling the doctor slowly. Then, he blinked, noticing faint trickles of smoke leaking out of the seams of the hood. He opened his mouth to say something when...

He slumped against the wheel, unconscious. The tractor headed straight toward the doctor.

"Kennedy? KENNEDY?"

Jack winced in pain and nearly lost his balance as the tractor lurched forward at a MUCH faster speed than it had been going.

As he clambered across the hood toward the unresponsive lieutenant, a strange sound gurgled out from Beastie's great rusting gullet: it was as though thousands of tiny magic moss dwarves had made a picnic of nuts and berries and fairy cakes within the mysterious clockwork under the hood, before having a disagreement about which among them was the bravest and most handsome dwarf, which naturally led them to start trying to kill each other with hammers and set each other on fire. Screeching, clanging sounds.

"AWAKE, KENNEDY! THE DWARVES ARE ANGRY!" Jack lay across the length of the hood so he could reach down to shake the sailor by the shoulder. He could feel heat coming up from beneath the metal casing. "Oh, Bugger..."

"Bonesy! I can't rouse him!" Coughing, the pirate slid down so he was perched on the side of the tractor, where he pulled the lad free of the wheel, coming very close to losing his balance in the process.

This was not happening to him, McCoy thought as the tractor hurtled towards him when Kennedy passed out at the wheel and managed to get away in time, reaching into his medical pouch slung around his shoulders as he swallowed his pride -- something that was very difficult to do -- and climbed onto the tractor as it passed him and picked out his hypospray.

Oh and he also stopped the tractor. Goddamn eighteenth century boys and their inability to use a machine.

"Oh. That's how it stops."

Jack kept hold of Archie with his good arm, trying to pull him away from the controls. That was about when smoke began billowing in a very terrifying way from beneath Beastie's hood. And then came the belching flames.

"ABANDON SHIP, MCCOY! She's going to blow, mate. Oh for the---KENNEDY, WAKE UP."

If they didn't get out of there in the next few seconds, they would all three be blown sky high.

Edited 2011-02-28 05:43 (UTC)

The doctor ignored the pirate's agitated screaming in his ears and the flames licking beneath the bonnet of the tractor as he pressed the hypospray against Kennedy's neck. One tell-tale hiss later, the drug had been administered and he slipped it back into the pouch and waited for the lieutenant to rouse.

"AAAAAARRRRRRRR!" That was Jack's Rebel Yell as he dove for the doctor and the unconscious lieutenant, aiming to knock them all off of the flaming death trap to safety.

"Will you shut up and give me a se—" McCoy was prevented from completing that gripe as he was tackled off the tractor along with Kennedy and grunted as he fell off and was crushed underneath their weight. Still, he could walk away from the battle with the knowledge that thanks to these sea dogs, he had inhaled primitive fuel to last him a lifetime. Thanks.

"Beastie."

There was a lot of tragedy contained in that one word as the pirate, having rather comfortably landed directly on top of McCoy, watched their rusting steed erupt into a fireball that would make any director of any Steven Segal movie ever anywhere weep in appreciation.

"...There cracks a noble heart, lads."

"And you've just let them know where we are!" McCoy wheezed from somewhere underneath the pirate and attempted to none-too-gently shove him off him as a chicken clucked and scratched around Kennedy's head.

"Congratulations!"

"Did I have a fit?"

The question was murmured very softly, but in spite of the soft-spokenness, Archie was quietly terrified.

Edited 2011-02-28 17:11 (UTC)

"Fit? You fell asleep, boy. Can you move at all?"

"What he said." The doctor sighed.

Archie propped himself up on his elbows to answer, squinting at the burning tractor. "I fell asleep?"

"Like the fair maiden in the fairytale."

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