This story is in answer to the January 2002 Challenge: Write a story with the end line “the ship rocked and a voice moaned theatrically from the rail.”
Author’s Note: I don’t own these characters and I am not profiting from this bit of silliness. Comments and criticisms welcome.
“Hey,” Jason greeted his friend, plopping down on the bench next to him. “I talked to the captain. He said we should dock in Corinth by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Good,” Hercules nodded. “Then we can be back at the Academy by tomorrow night.”
“What’s the hurry?” the prince asked. “We could spend the night at the castle. Soak up a little luxury before going back to chores and classes and pre-dawn drills.”
“We’re already late getting back,” the demigod reminded his friend. “I just don’t think its wise to keep Cheiron waiting.”
“What’s a few more hours?” Jason scoffed. “Anyway, he’s the one that sent us to Athens in the first place to pick up those scrolls.”
“And he expected us back a week ago.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand when we explain everything to him.”
“Sure,” Hercules sighed. “It’s perfectly understandable. The three of us on our own in Athens get sidetracked rescuing a group of kidnapped Mycenaean women from an emissary of Ares who was attempting to sell them into slavery. Now, imagine that story coming out of Iolaus’ mouth.”
“You’re right,” the prince agreed, slumping forward to rest his chin in his hands. “We’re dead meat.”
“Maybe we would be,” the demigod said, grinning suddenly. “If Iolaus hadn’t stolen the guy’s inventory scrolls for proof.”
“He did that?”
Hercules nodded his affirmation.
“Guess when you have the reputation of always being up to something, you learn to cover your butt.” Jason shook his head, but he, too, had to grin. “Where is our resident outlaw, anyway?”
“Over there.”
Jason looked across the ship to the spot that Hercules had indicated, immediately spying the form hunched miserably over the railings of the ship.
“What’s wrong with him?” the prince asked, a note of concern in his voice. “Iolaus doesn’t usually get seasick. Maybe I should go check on him.”
“Don’t bother.”
Jason was surprised. Hercules was usually a very caring guy, and was always the first to show concern for his friends. This indifferent attitude was not like him at all.
“Why not? Look at him....”
“He’s faking, Jason.”
“What?” The prince looked back to the cadet at the rails, who painted the very picture of suffering. “He’s not sick?”
“Oh, he’s sick all right,” Hercules declared. “But it has nothing to do with the sea. He’s trying to meet women.”
The demigod glanced at his friend, who was staring at him with a look of utter confusion. Taking a deep breath, he explained.
“Iolaus has, to put it in his own words, a foolproof theory to meet girls. The way he told it to me was that women are very nurturing and mothering. If they see a man with an illness or an injury, they can’t stay away. Show them a little vulnerability, and they come running, falling over themselves to help.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Jason laughed.
“I thought so too, but I’ve seen it work,” Hercules insisted. “He cons some poor girl into taking care of him, and she’s hooked before she knows it. And nobody was ever a bigger sucker for it than my own mother. Once she was making us work on the roof of the house, and Iolaus got tired of it and pretended that he had fallen off the ladder and hurt his leg. You should have seen the fuss she made over him. I tried to tell her he was lying, but she just yelled at me for being insensitive and made me go back to work. I finished the roof by myself while he sat in by the fire stuffing himself with pastries as my mother waited on him hand and foot. See, look at that!”
Once of the young women from Mycenae had spotted Iolaus. She approached him, kneeling down beside him on the deck as she began speaking. Hercules and Jason were too far to hear the conversation, but they watched in fascination as the cadet put on an appropriate pathetic display, and was eventually led away by the lovely young woman, her arm tight around his waist.
“I don’t believe it,” Jason muttered, astounded by what he had seen.
“Get used to it,” Hercules advised, rising from the bench and stretching broadly. “He’s full of Old Hunter’s Tricks. Come on, let’s go to the galley and get something to eat.”
Jason looked up from his bunk as Hercules entered their room in the hold.
“Did you find him?”
“Yes,” the demigod groaned, throwing himself down on his own bed. “Our companion will not be joining us tonight. He is currently in the company of four young women who are completely enamored of the young hero who faced much danger to rescue them and is currently acting so bravely, despite the pain he’s in. They are keeping him in their room, in order to care for him and monitor his condition.”
“Four!?” Jason practically fell out of his bunk.
“Yes, four. They’re fawning all over him and he’s eating it up. It’s disgusting.”
“Totally.”
They both fell silent for a moment, then the Corinthian prince sat up suddenly.
“You know, come to think of it, I’m not feeling that great myself. I think I’ll go up to the deck and get a little air.”
“Hey, Jason,” Hercules called as his friend bolted for the door.
“What?”
“Don’t forget the puppy dog eyes. I’m told that’s the key.”
“Gotcha.”
As Hercules settled down for the night and made himself comfortable in his narrow bunk, the ship rocked and a voice moaned theatrically from the rail.
Disclaimer: No stomachs were put into upheaval by the rocking waves of the sea during the writing of this story.
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