Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 63. Chapter 63

Want a Lift?

Cosmo was joking, but I wondered that myself in the beginning. He could seem cold or without emotions or compassion. I now knew that wasn't true. He did it because of what he was asked to do. I suddenly got a slight epiphany! Could it be that simple? No. However, it did make sense.
"What?" Peter asked me as he ate his one omelet. He didn't know what it was, but he saw it on my face.
Yep, I had no poker face at all with Peter so I just went with it. "He's not just protecting us," I stated as I rolled the theory in my head. "He's protecting himself!"
Peter sat back. "He's protecting himself from who?"
I pointed at Mikell, Alec and our other agents. "From them!"
"What!? Why?" Mikell asked.
"Captain," I smiled. "Why are you down here? Right now."
Luke sort of chuckled. "To let these others know, I am Captain, but we are a crew." He held up a single finger. "One crew and I am part of that crew."
I was nodding. "Excellent explanation." I waved at our agents. "Does Yuri do that?"
"He's eaten at the same time and area," Alec said, "but never with us."
"He doesn't with the agents in Boston either." I looked at Peter. "He took forever to express any emotion at home...even to Boris! Their married, but you'd never guess by looking at them." I looked at the others. "Would you be surprised Peter and I are married?"
"Hell, no!" Rolph answered quickly. "I see one of you. I know the other is very nearby."
Peter nodded with a chuckled. "Eric was always hugging Yuri until he got to expect and give one his own. Now he does it all the time."
Mercea looked at me. His expression said it, but he asked.
"Why?"
I smiled at Mercea. "This all guesswork and theory until I speak with him." I knew I shouldn't have done this, but I needed to talk it out. "I ask you not to talk to Yuri about it until I do. Trying to get you to be a unit, you need to know. I'll tell you or Yuri will tell you."
"You're not a doctor, so patient confidentiality doesn't apply," Cosmo said wanting more. Cosmo was the sneaky one. Always helping and did his job and his antics were harmless. He was a tall, dark-haired hairy overgrown version of Dennis the Menace. Maybe we should put Cosmo in the corner.
"No." I agreed. "And you're not really his next of kin. Boris is." I looked at Peter. "I guess we are..." I turned back to them. "It is against the friend code to speculate."
"The friend's code..." Mikell was about to question.
Peter raised his hand quickly. "Eep!" He said fast and short. "Don't bother. He knows all the codes and rules to just about everything."
I sat back an inch from Peter. He looked the same, but he knew. "Those rules and codes avoid misunderstanding and chaos!"
Peter nodded. "Yes, it does." It wasn't that condescending.

Peter and I told Henri we'd dine alone again. Nothing fancy, just alone. The last night exclusively of our honeymoon. We could have other nights alone, but...
We didn't plan anything. They had a card game going, Mercea was in the pool at the moment. Mikell was reading off of one of the library's pads. I was just enjoying what I saw. Of course, Peter couldn't just let it pass.
We were on a couple of plush and comfortable lounges by the pool.
"You're not worried about Yuri anymore." He said and not as a question. "That must be some theory you have."
I nodded. "If I'm right."
"You are sure you are." Again, not a question.
I grinned. "Am I that easy to read?"
"For me? Yes." Peter chuckled. "I've studied you for almost two years. You know how I feel just by looking in my eyes." He reached over and took my hand. "Can you give me a hint?"
"I am not an expert or even qualified to give an opinion..."
"Eric." He growled slow and softly squeezing my hand.
I held a hand up. "I'm just saying. He doesn't want to become attached to them."
"Why not?" Peter asked.
"He could get hurt." I shrugged. "Why specifically only he knows. He did it with you and me!"
Peter laughed at that. "And how long did that last with you? A few weeks?"
"Everyone needs and wants love," I said simply and shrugged. "He would get it from Boris...when they were alone, which was seldom. Does Yuri love Boris? Hell, yes. Does Boris love Yuri? Again, Hell, yes. Once Yuri got used to it from us dry he started soaking it up like a sponge!"
Now, I looked forward to seeing them and a lot less worried about hurting anyone. Yuri could still be hurt, but not because of me or about what I wanted with them. People would proceed with what they thought was needed and end up doing more harm. I had to be careful. Yuri was a strong man. Physically. Whatever made him turn that portion of his life off, if I just started tearing away carelessly could hurt him more. An untrained therapist could harm easily, That was me. Along with those many wise words, Grandma told me that just because a person has all those letters after the last name, doesn't mean they won't do just as badly. A big difference is that same feeling. Love. You'll know when you push too hard. I prayed that would prove to be true.

There was just one...incident. I'll tell you. I never felt any fear, but probably should have been. It's one of the oldest ploys on any record. On Southern records, it's the "poor litl ol me" routine. Make sure the Southern Drawl is on heavy. You have them, too. The car has broken down on the side of the road. The beautiful woman stranded with no help. Damsel in distress? The knights inside men came out.
This time a woman was twenty kilometers from Sicily's Westside. A crewman came and spoke to Mikell who looked startled a little, but nodded and told the other agents and approached Peter and me.
Peter frowned. "What's wrong, Mike?"
Mikell waved it off with a hand. "It's likely nothing." He said casually. "Nothing to worry about."
"Great!" I said. "But we need to get below in case it is something to worry about."
Mikell nodded scratching the of his head, but not because of an itch as he looked away from us. "Yeah. Please? Our quarters have small portholes to see."
"Sure." Peter got up and pulled me to my feet and we went down.
I hadn't asked to see their quarters, but I was impressed. They each had two bunks each. Or ranks as they called them in the navy. There were two more that could be opened above the two for two more additional people if needed. One would be comfortable. Two would be cozy, but three or four would make it crowded. I had friends in the navy. They spoke of sharing racks. No. Not together but some did, I bet. Eight hours work, eight hours up and about and eight hours in the rack. The rack was never empty. Submarines had four shifts in the day of six hours each.

I did it again. Sorry.

We slowed a boat off our starboard side. I learned that and didn't say "the right." I may be right at the moment but left other times. It may not move, but they on the left, but it was always starboard on that side of the ship.
This new boat wasn't big, but more than a little boat with an outboard motor. There was a cabin below the Helm or whatever. Where they steered the damned thing! I heard Luke's voice amplified and he really said it. It wasn't just on TV. "Ahoy." That very word! "Ahoy. Do you need assistance?"
They might as declare English the International Language. Whenever two strangers met, before the country was known, English was always tried first. I have nothing but my experiences to base that on but seemed true.
She came up from that cabin. Long dark hair and dark skin, not African but had some in her ancestry. One thing was evident. She was very pretty and filled that skimpy bikini up overloading the material. Particularly her bikini top. Pointing down she nodded. "Boat..." she struggled with the language. "...busted? Broke?" She said.
"Busted is a good word," I muttered softly.
"What?"
I patted Peter's arm. "I promise to tell you in a minute."
"Husband..." She added. "Sick? Ill. No fix." She waved at the Duchess. "You...help."
Peter looked at me. "She said she's in trouble and needs help."
"Yes." I nodded. "She did." I looked at Peter. "She may be telling the truth. It could also be a trap."
"A woman alone with a sick husband?" Peter asked.
"Is that all there is?" I asked.
"Husband very ill..." She begged.
"What's under your boat?" Luke asked in a cold voice. "Don't bother denying it. Some vessels can see what's there. I commend the efforts to hide that from noticing you were two objects. Not just one. Staying close some would read you like one."
The woman's lack of English was suddenly gone. "We didn't fool you."
"No," Luke replied. "I'm curious to know what country is home but you'll lie."
"That's true." She nodded.
I chuckled. "She's a pirate."
Peter's eyes widened. "She…is a pirate." The sound of extreme doubt in his voice.
"Yes." I grinned. "Not the kind you see on television or read about, but yes…a pirate." I tapped him on the chest. "Again, you just didn't know. Some greedy people will make victims of trusting, kindhearted people." I shook my head. "I was approached twice in Charleston." I grinned. "One wanted a dollar to get something off the dollar menu at Burger King or something. I said I'd take him into any of them and get him whatever he wanted even on the regular menu, not the dollar menu." I chuckled. "Then he came with the special diet and...he just wanted the money to buy alcohol."
Peter looked at me. "And the other?"
"This one deserved an award for his performance." I chuckled. "He was from out of town, his wife was in the hospital and he ran out of gas. Just he and his children...his kids were in the car waiting and he had a gas container..."
"God!" Peter stated. "That's terrible!"
"It had to be to work!" I grinned. "He was good," I said in near admiration.
"Could he have been telling the truth?"
I gave a grudging nod. "I thought...maybe did tell the truth."
"And?" Peter asked urging me on.
"I'm getting there," I said. "I saw him and a buddy putting the money the story had worked on. Then another came." I waved it off. "Not from out of town, no kids and they had enough for a tank of gas, but got beer and some corn chips." I pointed at the pirate and her boat. "She's not alone."
"Oh," Luke said. "Those three coming underwater...the men onboard will be shooting as some dangers in the water. Agħmel lest." I would learn was Maltese to make ready.
"Okay!" She hurried grabbed what looked like a bullhorn and held it under the water's surface off the side. "Okay." She said something and two African men came up from below.
"If you even if you do or don't mind," Luke stated. "There is a schedule." He spoke into his hand. '"Mur." Which meant either let's go. Because the Duchess suddenly shot forward. There's no equivalent for rapid, rubber-screeching peel off in a boat, but that's what the Duchess did.
Earl, the Duchesses crewman came in. "You can come out now."
Peter still was having the issue. "She...is a pirate."
Earl chuckled. "Oh, yes. She bills herself the Beauty and the Beast." He looked to see some understanding on Peter's face. "You know. She's both?"
"Why!"
Earl shrugged. "She's extremely good at it."
"There have been a few female pirates." I nodded. "Two operated in and around the Charleston."
Earl nodded. "This one is one of the deadliest." He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "That's why we're booking it outta here before she has help."
Peter held his head as he seemed to wrestle with the news. "Busted." "booking...what!?"
I nodded. "And I'll explain it, I turned to Earl. " Isn't she a little far North? And too close to Italy?"
Earl gave a slight nod. "It's not unknown for her to do. Normally, she operates farther out. She's closer to Sicily that I heard she does normally. She targets wealthy yachts and we appear to be almost empty crew wise. We could have been something she hadn't planned on, but couldn't resist."
I nodded. "This isn't a known route we're on," I confirmed.
"No," Earl replied. "There is a narrow passage between Italy and Sicily we could go near Torre Faro."
I nodded. "Ignorance speaking again." I looked at Earl. "There's no forecasted route plan submitted, is there?"
"Not for this trip," Earl said. "A yacht like the Duchess can file one so if they don't show up, someone knows to be on the lookout and know Even if there could be a problem and know where to look."
I nodded again. "Just checking. It could be what you said. A tempting target she just happened on. Not planned and waited for."
Earl thought a minute. "I don't see how. I never understood about whole reading tea leaves or palms." He shrugged. "I'm not sure the Captian knew until he decided on the fly."
"Eric," Peter growled out through gritted teeth. "On the fly?" He held his finger to nose level. "It's up to here. Do we just allow them to pile up? I'll be in a class all day!"
It was understandably difficult to learn everything about a language and you feel left out if don't know. I nodded and anyone who knows what was saying if they watched me. My hands gave an extremely exaggerated curve over my upper chest. That Mac obviously a woman's bust. Doing something on the fly meant planning to do something while doing it. Booking would take longer explaining "hightailing it" or hurried. I grinned as he was nodding as I explained. "Are we good now?"
Peter nodded. "For now." His left eye squinted. "You know what we have trouble with English. So many sayings making twists and turns making it hard to navigate like a drunk in a maze!"
"Not like Makarovian or Ukrainian." I nodded. "I know them!"I waved at him. "And now you know these, too."
He sobered a little. "You're thinking it the Consortium?"
I shrugged. "I also don't know it isn't." I pointed out. I turned to Earl. "Are we in Italy's water or international?"
Again, there was the grudging nod. "Really. There is no International Waters in the Mediterranean. It's regional. Why?"
"Can you carry a gun on the Duchess?" I asked and raised my hand. "No hedging. Yes, or no?"
"Hedging?" Peter wailed quietly to me.
"No," Earl admitted with a smile. "They aren't supposed to either. Who are they gonna call to tell we broke the law? The Police!?"

As funny as it was having Peter not get a lot of things in English. It was my fault. I simply didn't use the phrases or words with him. He just didn't know. From day one, I spoke clearly in English so he could understand me. Signing me up with Peter was assigned for that reason and I just...did it.
I make mistakes all of the time. It could be in English, Russian, Ukrainian or Makarovian. Language and customs were something you learned when...wait for it...did on the fly.
Yeah, I know. It was predictable.

The Consortium was still out there and very much a threat...plus some countries in the Middle East...and some Extremists Fundamentalists Groups...a lot of people didn't like us. We had to change where we were going on our Honeymoon. Neither Peter or I were disappointed a bit. We made new friends because of it.
I had told Henri nothing fancy, but in one ear and out the other. I'd have to explain it to Peter if I said it aloud. I kind of enjoyed it. He was vulnerable.
We didn't dress up formally to eat but wore shirts that buttoned on the front and we entered at the correct time. Actually, a little early as Henri requested us to be. It was dark in the dining room and again the candles burned. Some slow piano dance music touched our ears gently.
Henri came out and instantly waved us to remain where we were. "I am...in'vizebel? Pas ici." He whispered in our direction. He had a different cart this time. It was taller and had a smaller surface top. He pressed something with his foot locking the cart in place if we were rocking, which I never felt. "This from the Duchess." He gave his grudging nod. "From her crew. This is your last night with just us. It has been a pleasure having you onboard."
I recognize small crystal dish of small dark gray...beads. I only had this once in my entire life. It wasn't cheep. From the size of the beads it said it was not cheep.
There were two small spoons made of crystal. Metal spoons changed the taste, I'm told.
As odd as it seemed, Peter knew exactly what it was. "Caviar!"
I nodded. "Beluga Caviar." I pointed out.
Peter looked closer at it. "This is grade one, premium caviar!"
Henri frowned and smirked. "How does he know that and never had escargot?" He demanded.
I chuckled patting Henri on the arm. "We have caviar on holidays. Especially during Christmas." I dipped a spoon in the caviar. "Often Salmon Caviar. I've had Beluga Caviar once." I put the little spoon in my mouth. It had a taste...unique. It was delicious and that fine little "pop" sensations as they eggs burst their flavor told me this was good quality. Henri had those little pieces of buttered toast to put the caviar.
"Oh," Henri said. "I see. Some of us were worried you wouldn't like it."
"Are you kidding!?" Peter shook his head. "I love caviar!"
I nodded. "Me, too. Let them know we appreciate it very much."
"Champagne and sour cream." He placed a small dish creamy white stuff between us.
Peter was about to put his spoon in the caviar again and froze. "Of course, you and I will be double-dipping..."
"Aw, we're sharing germs," I said in a mocking isn't that so sweet tone and pulled him into a kiss where every germ in his body and mine was shared. "We're safe."
Peter and I opened the champagne and some more caviar. We even danced to the music. For someone to say they only danced alone in their room. He did very well with me. There was a special connection even with casual dancers. We had worked out routines for energetic dancing. We required no instruction on slow dancing.
We didn't speed things up, but it was time to eat and were getting hungry.
I grinned when we were given Oysters on the half shell. A half a dozen each. The chuckle just came out and I pushed it down quickly. Peter looked at me and asked in a loud stage whisper. "Isn't all this...afrodyziaky?"
No. It wasn't said in English, but was close in pronunciation...even though I never heard or remembered it in Ukrainian or Makarovian, I knew what he asked.
"Yes." I nodded again. "They are said to be aphrodisiacs." I grinned. "They are trying to make us desire to do something." I shrugged. "I think we can wait to go to our quarters."
He picked up an oyster. "Caviar I got." He touched the oyster in the shell. "How the Hell do I eat this?"
Things went back into balance after I showed him how. I didn't tell him about parties where they just dumped some on the table, hot and ready, whenever you shucked it. Another lesson in the future. Then I remembered. "Henri."
Henri came in seconds. "Yes?"
"How'd you get these?" I asked. "There's no R in June."
Henri smiled nodding as he understood. "Ah, yes. That old wive's tale."
I chuckled. "Damn those old biddy wives."
Henri nodded and gave a short laugh. "The truth is, they don't have a season. Many of your local fishermen and harvesters still follow that tale and don't bring them in." He looked at us. "Anything else?"
"We'll think of something." I nodded and looked at Peter.
"What?" He asked calmly and softly as he didn't understand and again. He knew enough to know what was being said but didn't understand what it was about. He knew what oysters were, but old wives. The lack of a letter in the month's name. I explained it and Pete nodded as he was understanding.
She-crab soup. When Henri revealed it from under the metal cover, it blew my mind as my turn to be the know-it-all returned. Yes, I often am, but from asking so many questions! I don't know it all. Once I'm told the answer, I verify it. I've done it all my life! I inhaled slowly enjoying the luxury of the scent. "She-crap Soup."
Henri grinned and nodded. "That's right. Or, I should say She-crab Soup A'la Henri."
I smiled. "One of your discoveries?"
"Yes."
"She-crab." Peter stated. "No he-crab?"
I shook my head. "It has crab roe in it." And I explained the roe are eggs in the she crab. "It's another of the things South Carolina can proudly claim."
Peter nodded smiling. "You start the Civil War, take a break to eat she-crab and dance on the beach."
I nodded. "Yes." I simply said. Getting some on my spoon and did the blow on it thing as delicate steam did the enticement dance under my nose. After tasting, I had a decision to make. Crabmeat was sweet She-crab even more so. Savory, but sweet. "What do I do, Peter?"
He was his fourth or fifth spoonful. "About what? I think it's delicious! Don't you like yours?"
I nodded. "And therein lies the problem," I said a bit dramatic, but who isn't? "It's She-Crab Soup. Do I take the position of the loyal Southern man from South Carolina and kill him for his blasphemy?"
Henri grinned but asked. "What blasphemy?"
"You took a dish that has been passed from generation to generation and changed something in it." I pointed at Henri with one of my eyes squinted. "That's like changing the words in the Bible to say what you want."
Henri chuckled. "They do that all the time!"
"Well," I said. "Who do you think you are changing so dear legend that spans centuries? You call it She-Crab Soup!"
"Ah," Peter grinned. "Which you confirmed it was, but he added the a'la Henri. You knew it was going to be different."
I nodded. "And there is the dilemma."
Henri chuckled. "Should I rename it?"
"No," I said. "I know! There is a huge population of French in Charleston. Probably the people who came up with it was French and began the whole thing. We'll say it's how the French originally started it!"
"No, it's not," Henri said.
"Prove it." I challenged.
Henri thought and ended up shaking his head. "No one person did it."
"There," I said smugly. "And no one can prove it wasn't."