Can The Lady Make An Exit, Or What? pt. 2
(S)
Thirty minutes later Chenille stood in the darkened recess of the
cargo access hatch. Niccolo was an indistinguishable lump next to her
feet, studying the layout of the flight deck. She plotted the best way to
cross the 70 or so meters that separated her from the familiar bulk of
Excalibur 201 and projected the information to Niccolo.
(Good. Count to 40, then come over. I'll have the hatch opened
and ready.) He melded into the shadows and was gone.
She counted slowly, at 38 took a deep breath, then ran, a shadow's
shadow.
(Not bad,) Niccolo greeted as she flew through the hatch. Without
addressing the assessment, she made her way back to the small hidden
compartment toward the front of the ship. Expertly she triggered the hatch
and slithered into the narrow area that housed the prone cylinder which
contained what was left of Harvey's organic parts.
"You okay, Doc?" the cyborg drawled.
She rested against him-concentrating on returning her breathing and
heart rate to an acceptable level-and nodded. "You?"
"Oh, Ah'm fine, jest fine. Ah like bein' grounded in an Imp
battlewagon." Chenille gathered herself up into a cross-legged sit as the
cyborged ship continued his tirade. "Ah like bein' crawled over, under,
through and around by a bunch of scrawny, zit-faced babies who couldn't
navigate their way out of an in-flight sickness bag!"
(I told you he was pissed off,) Niccolo interjected from his perch
atop the cylinder, his whiskers twitching wildly with Roben laughter.
"Are you finished?" She asked when he paused for a breath.
He considered for a second, studying his doctor through the only
optic port in this part of the ship. "For th' moment."
She looked uptight, worried, tired... He wondered what in the
known worlds had possessed their Captain to allow her to come.
"You pulled rescue duty, huh?" He said it casually, but a little
disapproval leaked into his voice.
Chenille's chin came up. "Yes." There was a hint of determined
anger under that word.
"I thought we'd agreed that you were goin' to leave the rough stuff
to us idiots who are trained for it," he chided her gently.
"There was no other choice, Harvey. You know that as well as I."
He could think of at least three others. One in particular.
"Well, ta tell ya the truth, I was kinda' expectin' Tandy."
"Taandra is an exceptional pilot," she shot back. "But this kind
of operation requires a different set of skills."
"Which you just happen to have... If ah remember correctly, the
last time you pulled a stunt like this you very nearly got yourself
killed!"
She looked away, staring down at her crossed ankles. "I've already
had this argument with Michael. Twice in fact. I do not intend to have it
again."
(Let it go, Harv,) the Roben warned.
"I don't want to argue with ya, darlin'. I jest worry about'cha,
y'know?"
She nodded, still focused on her ankles.
He tried to change the subject. "Well, ah for one, ain't goin'
nowhere fast with that power coupling in the shape it's in."
Chenille unslung her medkit, pulled out a shiny new coupling and
held it up for him to see. "Will this do?"
"Where'd you get that?!" He was sure that power couplings weren't
a part of standard medkit supplies.
"The garage supply room." She seemed perplexed by his surprise.
"Why? Is it too small?" There was genuine alarm in her face.
"No, darlin'," he chuckled reassuringly. "That'll do jest fine.
We're in business. So what's the plan?"
"Have you been able to locate Max?" She continued to unpack the
medkit.
"Nope." There was a lot of worry in that word. "But ah know he's
still here. Ah've been monitorin' every exit off this bucket an' he ain't
used one yet."
Chenille's mind started to race. Where would everybody conceivably
wind up in one place? "Where are the executions held?"
He checked. "The main briefing amphitheater. Why?"
She picked up the hypo, swapped it end over end between her hands,
eyes focused in concentration. Her hands stilled as the disjointed pieces
of her thoughts clicked into place, along with a little niggling worry.
"Well, I assume that they will make sure that Max is at his own
execution." She placed the hypo onto the rapidly growing pile of medical
paraphernalia. "That would be the best time to rescue them."
"Them? Whoa, hold on a sec! THEM WHO? You better not be talkin'
about those two..." he stuttered, trying to find a proper description and
spat out the only word he could find that came close, "...stowaways!"
Harvey's voice reeked of angry disapproval.
"Yes, I am." She glanced at Niccolo, hoping for some support, but
he was suddenly engrossed with grooming his front toes. She sighed and
prepared to ride out Harvey's temper tantrum.
"Now that's downright stupid!"
"Help was promised," she said firmly.
"So what?!" he bellowed.
"It was promised, Harvey." There was sheathed steel in those words.
Harvey forced himself to sound calm. He had to make her see that
this was adding needless danger to herself and everybody else. "Now,
"Nille, you listen to me. We don't even know who these people are. Hell,
they came outta' nowhere and ah mean No Where. They're variables, darlin'.
Dangerous variables an' every part of me says they're nothin' but bad
news. You expect me to believe that they're worth riskin' your life over?"
"Yes." Stubbornness was etched into every angle of her body.
"An' me an' Max's an' Niccolo's too?"
She flinched as if he had struck her and looked straight into his
optical port. "I can't just leave them, Harvey. Just as I couldn't have
left you that first time. You were just as much in need and just as much a
variable."
It was a soft plea, for his understanding alone. It was his turn
to flinch and even though it was only mental, it was just as violent as the
doctor's had been.
"Okay, you win," he grumbled, willing that particular memory back
under its rock. If not for this small vulnerable looking female, he
wouldn't be here now. Enough said. "So, jest how ya goin' to get two
thousand Imperial's to turn the other way while you take one of the most
wanted rebels in the galaxy away from them?"
She opened the slender box she had retrieved from the bottom of the
medkit and angled it so he could see the twenty small silver beads nestled
inside. He gave a little whistle. There were enough explosives in that
dainty hand to blow him and a good sized chunk of the deck he sat on into
their component molecules. He looked back to her face, saw the silent war
there and knew what caused it.
"Uh, 'Nille?"
She anticipated his question, her voice seeming to come from an
unfathomable distance as she answered. "The inhibit is only against
directly taking a human life."
A very tiny part of him felt sorry for the Imperials as that
statement caused the conflict to cease, turning her eyes hard and cold with
determination.
* * *
Albion crouched-knees drawn against his chest, back braced against
one dark gray wall, facing a now invisible door-and slammed his fist into
the floor in frustration. He would have preferred to pace but four steps
in any direction brought him nose-flat into a wall.
It was one of the most cunningly crafted cells he had ever been in,
designed to exhaust both body and spirit. It was working. It was
incredibly barren, containing only a small hole in the center of a floor
which sloped inward at uncomfortable angles from all four walls, a
monitoring device set high and flush into a corner and himself. Not
exactly an embarrassment of riches. He did have light. The ceiling-five
inches too low for him to stand completely upright-emitted a dim glow which
the walls seemed to absorb, making him feel like he was stuck in an eternal
twilight.
His frustration came from worry. Worry for an auburn-haired,
emerald-eyed woman lost to him somewhere in the bowels of this ship. And
guilt. He couldn't forget that. He rested his forehead against his knees,
causing his long hair to spill over and create a golden curtain that hid
his face.
He had done it again. Dragged in an innocent. His internal clock
told him that he had been in this cell for a full eight hours. He had to
get out of here. Get to Rachael Shaw. Get her to safety. At the moment
that was an impossibility. He pounded the floor again.
(Do that again and you'll probably break your hand.) It was a
tickly little voice, heard not with the ears, but with the mind. He looked
up, locating the Roben by his two small eyes which glowed red as they
caught and amplified the dim light. (How ya doin'?)
Albion began a startled reply, having given up on the little being
hours ago, assuming that he had either been captured or had found a way to
free his friend without his help.
(Don't talk, stupid! Think!) The little voice turned shark and
prickly. (You don't want Them to come and see who you might be talking to,
do you?)
Albion shook his head and shifted mental gears. (DID YOU FIND
RACHAEL SHAW?)
(Hey!!!) The little eyes moved rapidly from side to side. (Tone
it down!)
He made the appropriate adjustment. (Sorry. Did you find...)
(Yeah, yeah...) the Roben interrupted. (She's okay, just in La-La
Land.)
Albion's rush of relief was suddenly dampened. (La-La Land?)
Niccolo caught the confused edges around the thought. (Yeah. You
know, in a Mind Room?) he prompted.
(Mind Room?) This didn't sound at all good.
(The term "re-education" mean anything to you?)
The word fluttered through his mind, leaving little icicle fingers
behind it. He bolted to his feet without conscious thought, the back of
his head making a soft 'thwap' as it met the ceiling. He let himself slide
back down the wall, one long fingered hand pressed against the rising knot
on his skull.
(Nice move,) the Roben said. (Banging your brains loose is really
going to help your lady friend.)
Albion glared at the glittering points of light in the corner,
massaging the bump. (Can you get me out of here, or not?)
(Out of here, no. Off this ship with Rachael, though, is a
distinct possibility.)
Albion was aware of the cautious edges to the Roben's thoughts.
(Define "distinct possibility.")
(Did you know that you've been scheduled for termination?) He said
it in the same way one would discuss the weather. It caught him totally
off guard.
(Excuse me?)
(O:15, first watch. Interested?)
The bump started to throb in time with his pulse. (You have my
undivided attention.)
(Unfortunately, there's going to be a little distraction.) There
was morbid amusement in those words.
(What kind of distraction?)
(Oh, you'll know it when it happens. And in the ensuing confusion,
I might just be able to help you get to your friend, Rachael.)
(How?)
(Depends on the circumstances, doesn't it?)
Albion understood. He had been told everything the Roben deemed
necessary to know. Help had been offered and if he wanted it he would have
to play by the Roben's rules. The little eyes waited, like two miniature
red stars, for his decision.
(Okay, what do you want me to do?)
(Good boy. When they come to get you, you just play the good
prisoner. Any outside heroics and your on your own. Stay alert and do
what I tell you. Simple?)
Albion nodded.
(Good. Now try to get some rest.) The little lights disappeared,
the air making a quiet whoosh as it rushed to fill the space where they had
been.
* * *