Chapter 13/THEN
CFA New Orleans, orbiting Earth
February 19, 2366
Kris was shopping in the Bazaar, looking around at the various
artifacts and knick-knacks of a thousand worlds. One booth entirely
given over to toys had a prominent display of the ThunderForce: Glory
series of action figures. The featured figures, even after three
years, were the Wedding-Action Hammer and Eiko figure set. Kris had
been glad to attend, despite the mountain of backlogged reports,
contracts, and authorizations he'd had to plow through before and
after the ceremony to get the time clear. Martin was a good friend,
and Eiko a good person; Kris wished them both the best.
Also prominently featured- in the discount rack, alas- was the
figure for "Fleet Admiral" Redneck, his personal third incarnation in
the long-running figure series. Picking one of the figures up, he
chuckled at the "data-file" on the back of the bubble card. Like the
animated version of himself on the incredibly long-running cartoon,
the figure was listed as "the independent, aloof commander of a
revolution-for-hire, the Confederate Freespacers Mercenary Fleet." The
figure itself bore a strong resemblance to a red-headed Captain Nemo,
with a huge captain's hat to go with the CFMF dress uniform.
Kris loved it, and hated it, at the same time. The figure,
again like the animated character, had some resemblance to him, but it
painted far too broad a portrait to be accurate. Of course, you
couldn't explain to kids why for every hour Kris spent on the bridge
of a starship, or in a starfighter cockpit, he spent a day processing
paperwork, or performing boring inspections, or holding long,
incredibly dull and occasionally nervewracking meetings with various
chiefs of state. You couldn't explain in a twenty-two minute animated
show how a minor recurring cameo character relied on dozens of people
to perform the miracles which were explained away in a sentence or two
on-camera.
Still, he thought with a smile, it's a nice dream to have.
"It's not a bad likeness, Admiral," the booth's keeper said.
"You can take one if you like."
"Not selling good, are they?" Kris asked the half-Gamilon
woman, grinning wryly.
"Actually, they sold pretty well," she smiled, "but not as
well as I thought they would. Still, I made my money back, and more
besides. Go ahead," she gestured, "I've still got plenty.in storage."
"Well... thanks," Kris said, pocketing the figurine. Then,
suddenly inspired to action, he fished a pen out of his tunic pocket.
With a flourish, he signed the name, "Admiral Redneck," on another
figurine and handed it to the vendor. "Maybe you can do something with
this," he said.
"Maybe I can," the boothkeeper said. "See you around,
Admiral!"
"Take care," Kris said, and he strolled off down the corridor.
Fingering the display card in his pocket, he frowned a bit. He didn't
want to make a habit of picking up stuff here and there for free, not
now or ever. Maybe there was a kid or something who'd like the thing,
or-
"Red!" The voice woke Kris from his thoughts, and for the
first time he noticed the slight disturbance in the Force which
indicated the presence of Rianna Santova. Turning, he saw the tall
Sith Adept smiling behind him, radiating good cheer and contentment.
"Long time no see! How are you?"
"Not too bad, all things considered," Kris said. "How about
yourself? Where's Mayl and Subtracto?"
"Mayl's off spending her share of our latest haul," Rianna
said. "Subtracto's seeing to some maintenance work on the ship...
things got a bit hot near the end, but this latest run brought us
enough to kick back for a while and relax."
"That's terriffic," Kris smiled, looking Rianna's form over;
athletic, elegant as ever, dressed in (for a change) new clothes,
obviously bought from whatever money she had gained from the last run.
"What kind of run was it?"
"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies," Rianna
winked. "You taught me that one."
"So I did," Kris shrugged. "Here, why don't we get something
to eat while we catch up on each other?"
"Sounds good to me," Rianna smiled. "You're buying."
"I'm buying?" Kris said. "I thought you were in the money."
"I am," Rianna grinned. "and I want to stay that way."
"What an incredible sight. It's something I never get tired
of seeing, no matter where I go."
The plates from a satisfying dinner at Kelly's Starview Bistro
lay stacked in the center of Kris and Rianna's portside table. Rianna
stared out through the porthole into space, looking beyond the
multicolored ships flitting around the New Orleans on one errand or
another in the Home Fleet. For once, her normally serious face bore a
look of dreaminess, as if she were remembering some old fantasy.
Kris leaned a little over the table to look out himself.
"Would you believe," he said a few moments later, "when I was real
young, I was afraid of the stars?"
"No way." Rianna looked sideways at him and smirked a bit at
the thought.
"Oh, yeah," Kris nodded. "This was before Earth made First
Contact, you gotta remember.. My Dad and Mom were both big science
fiction freaks, and I picked up on a lot of their books, their TV
shows, what have you. And when I was outside at night, looking at all
the stars, I'd be scared to death that some nasty space alien was
gonna come down and- shoop!- run away with me."
He chuckled a little at the thought., and Rianna joined him
for a moment before looking back out the porthole again. "It was
always the other way around for me. Before I was old enough to
understand what stars really were, I always wanted to go up into the
sky and play with all the pretty lights. Mom and Dad were always
telling stories about what it was like to be in space... and I knew
right away that that was what I wanted to do too."
"Well, in a way you're lucky," Kris said. "You grew up in a
world where aliens were commonplace- heck, where you were an alien
yourself."
Rianna shook her head. "Hyeruul wasn't exactly rosy for us
aliens. The Santovasku Empire was always trying to flatten Hyeruul
back in its heyday. Some of the more tightassed Hyelians are still
prejudiced against us because of that. Queen Tz'ldah wasn't one of
those, thank the gods. Still, if it wasn't for my Mom's training, I
think I would've gone around the bend when I was a teenager. I wanted
to get away from all those Hyelians who saw me as a Santovasku and
nothing more.
"'Course it didn't work out quite like I intended, but I got
out." Rianna's smile was a bit more rueful than before.
"Things almost never turn out as you intend," Kris nodded.
"Look at me. I wanted to help fight a revolution, and I ended up with
my own little nation to worry about."
"That's right, you're the commander of a revolution for hire
or something, aren't you?" Rianna grinned wickedly at Kris, who
shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"Or something. What it really is, is me keeping about a
million people together in a cohesive nation, keeping them employed
somehow, keeping a starfleet running, and every now and then going off
and Doing the Right Thing. ... " Kris picked up his glass of water and
took a sip from it, then added, "There isn't a day that goes by where
I don't wish I could just bag it all and go back to being a dumb
fighter jock or something."
"Oh hush, I'm trying to look up to you as a role model from my
childhood days. Don't ruin it." Rianna winked at Kris as she chided
him.
Kris just barely managed to swallow the drink of water he had
in his mouth without blowing it through his nose. "Role model? Role
model?" he gasped. "I... I'm flattered... but really, you could pick a
better role model than a total idiot like me. I mean, I voluntarily
dress up in a Guinea pig costume and get blown up for thirty shows a
year so some kids get fun educational TV. Not the sign of a sane
individual!"
(The show in question, 'Washuu's Lab,' had been a side effect
of Washuu returning to the teaching profession. After eight years of
experiments, skits, and most notably explosions, the show placed a
respectable third in ratings behind whichever incarnation of 'Thunder
Force: the Animated Series' was on that year, and the twenty-fourth
century's most popular children's show, a Salusian puppet show named
'Little Tiki's Neighborhood," about which the less said the better.)
The mental image of Kris in his Guinea pig costume, after one
of the ubiquitous explosions, set Rianna to giggling. "You're right,
it isn't. ... " Sobering up slightly, she leaned back in her chair
and explained, "Well, one reason I saw you as a role model was because
you were always In Charge. You always seemed to be in control of your
own destiny, your own life. It was something I didn't really have
when I was a kid, something I really wanted. You had it. That's why I
admired you."
Kris smiled and leaned on the table, resting his head on one
hand. "... In charge. It's a nice illusion to have, and it's hell
keeping it up, and getting everyone else to go along with it." He
waved an arm around him, first at the people in the restraunt, then at
the ships outside the viewport. "Any one of these people here could,
at any moment, walk out on me, say no to me. At one point, I came
close to having all this taken away and destroyed, because of the
greed of a handful of people. It takes everything I have just to keep
up appearances, to play the part of Admiral Overstreet, or Redneck...
when really, I'd rather just be Kris."
His smile became a bitter smirk. "Hell, I don't have a fleet.
The fleet has _me._
"And you know the real trap in all of this?" Kris leaned back
and began gesturing widely as he continued, "I could just quit right
now and run off and leave all this for someone else to take care of.
Nobody would think any worse of me for it... except me. I've got this
annoying little sense of responsibility in my head which tells me I
have an obligation to my creation. I want to leave, there's nothing
standing in my way... but I can't go."
Slumping back onto the table, he added, "I can't think of a
better way to define idiot than that."
Rianna waited a few seconds before replying. "You sound like
my Dad. He has that same sense of obligation. ... He stuck with it. I
don't think he was an idiot for doing that."
Kris shrugged. "I dunno... y'know, sometimes I just get so
damn lonely. I mean, I don't have that many people I can talk to like
this... you, Washuu, Sparky... " Kris fell silent as he ran through
his list of friends and acquaintances. "...actually, these days that's
about it."
Kris frowned a bit as he considered how few people he could
really trust with his true feelings. He'd let the list grow short,
incredibly short. And where could he find more people- even one
person- to add to that?
Kris stared at the table, murmuring, "One of these days, I
want to find someone I can settle down with, who can help me feel...
well, help me not feel so tired so much, someone who can be there for
me when I need them, or even when I don't."
"Listen," Rianna smiled, placing a friendly hand atop his.
"You'll find somebody, or they'll find you. Don't worry about it.
Just be true to yourself and see feelings for what they are, and
you'll find that special person. Maybe sooner than you think."
Kris leaned back, taking his hands away from Rianna's,
smiling ruefully. "You're right. Thanks for letting me vent at you for
a while. I just get so... " He held up his arms, hands palm-up, and
shrugged. "...well, you know how I feel, hell, you know me better than
I know me." Leaning back in his chair, he muttered, "I just wish it'd
hurry up and happen. I'm getting sick of waiting."
"Hang tough, Red," Rianna smiled. "I used to watch my Dad get
sick of waiting for stuff all the time. He lived through it. You
will too."
"Maybe," Kris shrugged, then reached into his pocket and
tossed a twenty-Mark note and a few singles onto the check tray. As he
stood up, he said, "Let's go see if we can keep Mayl from squandering
the rest of your money, hm?"
"Now *there's* an adventure." Rianna grinned as she followed
him out of the restraunt and back into the anarchy of the Bazaar.
Chapter 13/NOW
Deep Space off Wilderness Station
August 23, 2388
#i... don't... goof... very... often...#
%...it's very dark out here...quiet...lonely...%
#can't... last... much longer...#
%...deep space...dad had a dream about this...something like
this......maybe i'll tell him about this......if i make it back...%
#no... can't... give up... need to... be here...#
%i have to make it back... i need to be here...... I need to
be _here_.%
*ping* "Rianna."
Rianna slipped out of the meditative trance and allowed her
senses to rise back to the surface. Subtracto had called. "I'm
here," she said, not opening her eyes.
"We're approaching the vicinity of Wilderness Station,"
Subtracto reported. "I suggest you wake up and take manual control
before we crash into something."
Rianna opened her eyes and sat up straighter, looking out of
the darkened cockpit at the space beyond. At long last, they had made
it back to civilization. Wilderness was visible in the distance.
Barely. There was an exceedingly large cloud of debris obscuring her
view, some of which was fairly close by, and the currently unpowered
Centurion was on collision course with it.
Wasting no time, Rianna ran her hands along the consoles with
practiced ease, quickly bringing up all the systems she'd powered down
to save energy, back up to full strength. A rising whine and hum
filled the ship as the lights came back on and the fusion plant came
back to full operating power, and Rianna was glad the reactor was
still functional. She pushed the control stick to the left and the
maneuvering jets immediately fired, pushing the ship away from the
starfighter-sized piece of metal that would have otherwise impacted
with the right wing and made life difficult.
As she made this rapid evasive maneuver, a corner of her mind
caught the sounds coming from the crew quarters: "huh--whuhWAAAAA!"
*THUD*
"Oops," Rianna deadpanned. Subtracto withheld comment.
"owow..." the noise from the rear continued. "huh? power...
*HOME*!" Rianna sighed, preparing herself for the next round of
hysterics. Being stranded in deep space without a hyperdrive was bad
enough, but being stranded in deep space without a hyperdrive and with
an increasingly manic Hyelian copilot, for almost two weeks, had
rapidly strained her patience to its limits. Regular meditation was
all that had kept her from snapping herself, and now that they were
finally near a starbase, she hoped her patience would hold out long
enough to get the ship into dock.
Just a little farther.
"Rianna!" the elf called out. "Are we there yet?? Did we make
it?? Can I have another cupcake now??"
"We're in the local space--" Rianna started to say.
"*Yes!* Open spaces fresh water hot showers real FOOD!" the
raving continued, getting louder as Mayl finally exploded into the
cockpit, still trailing a comet-tail of bedding. "I swear I'm gonna
kiss the flight deck when I..." she trailed off as she looked at the
not-light of the not-hangar they weren't in. Nothing but the same
blackness of space and a lot of debris. "...oh."
"We're in the local space," Rianna continued evenly. "But
first we have to get through this mess..." She banked the Centurion
over one of the larger hulks of scrap metal, this one still
recognizable for what it had once been: a GENOM Interdictor. Now it
was little more than a charred, twisted mass, another piece of the sea
of wreckage which dozens of salvage vessels -- some Freespacer, some
GENOM, some nonaligned -- were crawling through like so many carrion
scavengers.
"Noy jitat..." Mayl gasped. "What happened to all those
ships?" Looking out at the debris field, she picked out bits and
pieces of familiar-looking wreckage; a solar panel from a TIE, the
utility fin from a Freespacer corvette, the engine compartment of an
ancient Zardon-design cruiser. "Ri..." Mayl said slowly, looking
around the wreckage, "are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I'm thinking this was one hell of a fight," Rianna said
solemnly. Looking a little farther ahead, she could see the shattered
remains of more and more Freespacer vessels. And also the burned out
wedges of a few GENOM Interdictors and Ikazuchis. The presence of
those Interdictors would have been bad news for a majority of the
Freespacer craft... and judging by the much higher ratio of Freespacer
dead in this graveyard, they *had* been bad news. <This wasn't even a
fight,> she thought to herself. <This was simply slaughter.> She
hoped Redneck had survived this madness.
"May they all rest in peace," was all she said aloud.
"No!" Mayl said, ignoring Rianna's solemn tone. "Look at all
that neat stuff out there! Think of it! Top of the line ships, with
top of the line parts, all spread across space! Think how much MONEY
we could make off just a few pieces..."
Rianna stared with concern at the elf, whose eyes had
apparently turned into ruupi signs.
Her eyes and smile widened, if that was possible, and she
literally hopped in place as her fingerless-gloved hand pointed out
something she'd just spotted. "Oo! Oo! Looklooklook! That
fighter's almost intact, just the cockpit's wrecked! I'll bet its
fusion plant still works!!"
By this time Mayl had her nose pressed against the glass and
Rianna found the sight rather disturbingly similar to a child at the
window of a candy store, complete with drool. The image was completed
posthaste when the elf whirled and clasped her hands, pleading with
glassy eyes: "Can I pull in a couple things, pleaseplease*pleeeease*?
I'll only take a couple minutes! I promise!"
Rianna weighed her options. Much as she wanted to just get
the ship into dock and get out of it as soon as she could, Mayl's
salvage suggestion did have merit. They did, after all, need cash to
pay for the repairs the Centurion needed if it was ever going to fly
again. Sighing mentally, she noted the direction Mayl was drooling in,
and edged the Centurion in closer to the derelict ship she saw there,
while an overjoyed Mayl quickly hopped into the copilot's seat and
armed the tractor beam system.
"Come on, Seven!" Mayl muttered, grinning like a maniac as her
fingers flew with uncharacteristic grace over the control console.
"Mama needs a new hyperdrive!" Watching Mayl work the controls of the
tractor beam, Rianna recalled that the cargo hold was empty, and she
had to wonder just how long this was really going to take, since Mayl
was unlikely to stop at just "a couple things" under such conditions.
As the brilliant blue beam lanced out and locked onto the rear quarter
of their salvage target, Rianna sighed and sank back into her own
chair, resigning herself to a longer wait, letting her eyes and her
thoughts wander out into the devastation beyond...
%...i need to be here...%
Rianna blinked, an odd feeling coming over her. There was
something...... or was it someone...? She couldn't tell. She closed
her eyes, focusing...
%...i need to be here......
%...no, i need to be _there_...%
She hadn't consciously realized she'd increased the power to
the thrusters until Mayl abruptly whined at her. "Riiiii, what are
you doing?? Slow down! I'm trying to get some money here!"
"Let it go, Mayl."
"What?!" Mayl protested. "But I've almost--"
"*DON'T*. Argue. With. Me." Rianna suddenly growled in a
Force-tipped voice that promised a world of pain if not obeyed.
Mayl gulped and, with a tearful "bye bye money", shut off the
beam, her ears drooping.
Without another word, Rianna pushed the thrusters to full
power, taking the Centurion on an almost straight path through the
carnage for a minute or two. When she finally did begin to
decelerate, Mayl saw that they were pulling up alongside a Freespacer
X-Wing.
Or rather, what was left of a Freespacer X-Wing, which is to
say, not very much. It was almost broken in two, with a gaping hole
where the astromech droid should have been -- Subtracto had a brief
flash of unease at the sight -- one engine and two s-foils blown
completely away, the other three engines hopelessly ruined, the
cockpit canopy shattered into tiny fragments. In short, it was quite
dead and, in Mayl's eyes, worthless. It might pay for their docking
fee at Wilderness, but that was about it.
"This is it," Rianna said, mostly to herself.
Mayl had arched an ear and was on the edge of asking what in
Ghann'yn's name she was talking about when Rianna spoke again: "Get a
lock on the cockpit of that fighter." It was a command, not a
request. Mayl obliged, and again the blue beam lanced forth.
"Tractors locked... got it."
"Let's see, now..." Rianna brought up a display on her MFD,
studying it closely. "oh ho! There she is!"
"There what is?"
"Focus the beam on the cockpit and turn up the pull."
"Why?" Mayl asked, perplexedly studying what her own MFD was
telling her. "There's nothing there except that grakky old corpse."
"That's not a corpse."
"What?"
"Subtracto, pressurize the cargo bay as soon as she's in!"
Rianna said as she got up from her chair and headed back into the body
of the ship. Mayl was thoroughly confused by now, but nevertheless
did as she'd been asked. Soon enough, the tractor beam had pulled the
body out of the wreck and over to the Centurion, and the loud whirring
and clanking of machinery announced that the automatic loaders had
done their job, followed by a hissing noise and a slight change in the
cabin pressure as atmosphere flooded the cargo bays. Not knowing what
else to do now, Mayl hurried after Rianna.
By the time Mayl had gotten through the hatchway leading to
the cargo bay, Rianna was already inside, leaning over what they'd
recovered. Mayl hurried over to take a closer look. Whoever (or
whatever) it was, it didn't look very good, even for a corpse. Mayl
began removing what remained of the flight suit; when she removed the
helmet, a shower of dull red hair fell out; only a few strands still
clung to the scalp and eyebrows. The pilot's skin had turned an ugly,
morbid gray, tough and cold. The face had withered into a death
masque, eyes mercifully closed. Here and there on the body, the
wrinkled gray skin was smoother and tender, apparently scarred and
healed. Blood flaked off with every minor shift of the body, leaving
piles of red flakes on the deck.
"Yuck!" Mayl wrinkled her noise and quirked her ears. "Who's
the peihaat slime?"
Rianna said nothing, just peered more closely at the withered
form. The body showed no pulse, no respiration, not the tiniest
outward sign of life. And yet... She reached out and touched her
fingertips to the forehead...
#kris is alive kris cares about me!#
Rianna almost jumped back, her suspicion finally confirmed.
"....it's Washuu."
"Washuu? Can't be! What'd Washuu be doing in a starfighter?"
"Living."
"Ri, these ears aren't just to make me look cute," Mayl
quipped in her best attempt at a get-in-touch-with-reality voice. "If
there was anything working in that husk, I'd know!"
*Thup...thump.*
A heartbeat. From the body. It stopped Mayl dead in her
tracks, both physical and mental, and she just stared.
"By the two moons..." she breathed at length.
"She's alive." Rianna had become deadly serious. "Get the
medkit, then contact the station and--"
*WHOOM!*
"What was that?!" Mayl shrieked as the ship rocked violently,
nearly throwing them off their feet.
"Ladies," Subtracto's voice came over the speakers, with more
than a little urgency. "Could I direct your attention to the five
heavily armed ships surrounding us?"
Rianna came charging back up to the cockpit, having taken only
a moment to tell Mayl to stay put and keep Washuu from getting thrown
around, and jumped into her seat, immediately finding herself facing
two large salvage freighters, both heavily armed and armored and,
according to the targeting display, well-shielded as well. The radar
also reported two more hostile corvettes to either side, and one more
to the rear, and longer range scans indicated that more vessels were
converging on this position. Rianna was about to open a channel to one
of the freighters and demand to know what was going on, when the
vessel to their portside beat her to it: her MFD resolved into a
communications screen and the image of a poorly dressed and poorly
groomed human male presented itself.
"Afternoon," the pirate leader said with a wry grin. "Me and
my buddies here, we couldn't help noticing how you dropped that nice
expensive fusion plant back there, and came running over here to get
something out of this old fighter."
"So why don't you go pick up the fusion plant," Rianna
replied, not smiling at all. "And mind your own business? What I
salvage is my business."
"Sorry, babe," the pirate sneered. "I dunno what you pulled
outta that fighter -- my people couldn't get a good look. But
whatever it is, it must be pretty valuable if you dropped a high-end
fusion plant to get it. Just hand it over and we can forget about
this, huh?"
Rianna glared back at the cretin, feeling the power of the
Dark Side quietly welling up inside her. These fuckers had no
intention of letting her get away, that was clear. "And supposing I
don't want to hand it over?"
"Then you're gonna be sorry you messed with us, sweetheart,"
another pirate voice said, prompting a couple chuckles in the
background.
"Uh-huh," Rianna quipped, arming both her missile launchers
and priming her Steltek guns (special plasma weapons based on
Santovasku technology, built for her by a good friend and fellow
civ-hunter), locking both weapons on the freighter directly in front
of her. "Well I've got news for you assholes: you picked the wrong
privateer to mess with." And with that, she squeezed the triggers.
Two Spiculum IR missiles shot from the front launchers, as the
Steltek guns spat several fast-moving blasts of green fire at the
bridge of the freighter. The blasts tore into the forward deflector
shields, knocking them down to a meager 20% in a matter of seconds,
and before the startled bridge crew even had time to react to that,
the two missiles struck. The first one killed the shields completely,
and the second one passed unhindered through the bridge viewports,
detonating inside. There was a substantial explosion, and the
freighter drifted away, lifeless, as the Centurion kicked in the
afterburners and rocketed forward, narrowly avoiding a huge hail of
laser and particle fire from the other vessels.
"WHAT THE--?!?" the pirate leader hollered, forgetting for a
moment that he was still on the open frequency. "HOW THE FUCK DID SHE
DO THAT?!"
Not one to pass up an invitation, Rianna activated her comm.
"Simple. I have a better ship, and better guns, than all of your
sorry asses put together. And I'm also smarter than you, asshole."
"NAIL HER ASS!!" he screeched in response. That bitch was
gonna pay for what she'd done.
Rianna kept her finger on the afterburner switch, trying to
put as much distance between her and the pirates as possible. Her
bloodlust, encouraged by her tapping of the Dark Side, cried out for
combat, to teach these losers a lesson they'd never forget. The rest
of her, however, was mindful of the fact that she how had a very
fragile passenger in the hold, which made combat maneuvering a
hazardous proposition. That plus the fact that, good fusion plant and
working guns aside, the ship was liable to fold at any time, given
sufficient provocation. Better to run like hell and get into port.
She channeled her anger by focusing her will in front of the ship,
willing all the myriad pieces of debris to *get out of the way*. And
they did just that, leaping out of the flight path just in time for
the gunboat to rocket past.
"Centurion 295-CH to Wilderness Station," Rianna called. "I
could use a little help out here!" The freighters and corvettes
behind her were in pursuit, and making surprisingly good speed.
The missile lock warning on her radar pinged, and then warned
of an incoming projectile from the rear. No, make that several
incoming projectiles, concussion missiles which were making enough
speed to overtake her, even with full afterburn. And again, maneuvers
which would normally shake them were not an option. "Damn," she
growled. "Subtracto, take the rear turret and intercept those
missiles!"
"Acknowledged," Subtracto replied. Thus temporarily relieved
of that problem, Rianna was left free to concentrate on the one which
might be ahead, namely the corvettes between her and Wilderness. If
they were hostiles as well, there was going to be a bit of a
problem...
"295-CH," a communication came through. "This is corvette
group Crimson, Wilderness Station Defense; we have you under our guns.
We'll get these sharks off your tail." The three corvettes in front
of her were subsequently tagged as friendly, and accelerating.
"Thanks, Crimson," Rianna replied. "But I need some
anti-missile action and I need it fast!" Subtracto had managed to
down the closest missiles with the rear tachyon guns, but the
corvettes had launched several more in the meantime.
"We're on it, 295-CH." Presently Rianna shot through the
corvette group, which began opening up with its own weapons as soon as
she was clear. A moment later, the missile lock warning on the radar
went out, and Subtracto reported several detonations of anti-missile
rockets behind them.
Finally relaxing, Rianna released the afterburner key and
throttled back to a safer speed for navigating the debris field, the
immediate danger past. Calling up a rear view on her MFD, she watched
as the two battle groups engaged, and saw several more ships from all
sides joining in the melee as well. In another time and place she
might have stopped to watch the show, but there were more immediate
concerns at the moment.
"Wilderness, I have a medical situation," Rianna keyed her
comm. "Need priority clearance, please."
"Clearance granted, 295-CH," came the reply. "Medical crew
will be on station at landing bay 2, slip 15. Anything else you
need?"
"Yes, I need you to deliver a message to Redneck, priority one
subetheric, yesterday if not sooner."
"Who?" the comm officer asked, a bit perplexed.
"Admiral Kris Overstreet, the _Freespacer_fleet_commander_??"
Rianna fought back a wave of anxious fury, suddenly reminded that
Redneck was not one of the better known citizens of the galaxy,
despite his exploits over the past centuries. (Not unlike her own
father, she noted wryly.)
"Oh, uh..." the controller started to respond, obviously not
having any semblance of a clue.
"Never mind, control," Rianna grumbled, knowing the message
would never get there in time at this rate. "I'll take care of that
myself. Just have that medical team ready."
"Roger that, 295-CH. Wilderness out."
Rianna muttered a few choice obscenities under her breath as
soon as the connection was cut. "Subtracto," she ordered. "Go to
autopilot and get the ship into dock. I'll be in the rear."
"Acknowledged, Rianna," Subtracto replied. "Going to
autopilot."
With that taken care of, Rianna quickly got up and hurried
back toward the cargo bay, weighing her options.
*Thup...thump.*
Another heartbeat could be heard as Rianna hurried into the
cargo bay, where Mayl was still keeping watch over Washuu's body, and
seemed surprised by the sound. Or perhaps the lack thereof.
"Five _minutes_?" Mayl said, looking down at the body. "Why
is her heartbeat so slow?"
"Mayl," Rianna replied, clearly low on patience. "If I shot
you five or six times with a starship-grade laser and left you in hard
vacuum for over a week, how fast would _your_ heart be beating?"
"...um. Okay, yyyeah," the Hyelian answered, a trickle of
sweat running down the side of her face.
Rianna weighed the options in front of her. From what little
she knew of Washuu, there was very little any doctor on Wilderness
could do for her. At 20,000 years of age, nobody really knew what her
physiology was really like except perhaps for Washuu herself. And all
the Force sensitivity in the world would not do Rianna a bit of good,
for Washuu was Force-blind, making Rianna's skills useless. No, from
what Rianna knew of Washuu, there was only one person who might
possibly be in a position to understand, and deal with, this
situation.
"Mayl," she said as she sat down, cross-legged, in front of
Washuu. "Do me a favor. If I pass out, make sure I don't fall on top
of her, okay?"
"Uh... right, sure," Mayl said, ears quirked in confusion.
Rianna took in and let out a deep breath, closed her eyes, and
began to focus. She knew he was alive; that much was certain. Now,
wherever he was, she had to find him. Tapping once more into the
power of the Force, feeling the Dark Side reach out to her once more
and grant her the power she needed to realize her aims, she sent her
awareness outward, searching... calling...
* * *
"Red, please, let me in."
"Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but Commodore Overstreet has left
specific instructions not to be disturbed."
"Kris, please, let me talk to you, let someone talk to you!"
"Lieutenant Curtiss, please, I -must- ask you to leave this
office immediately."
"Kris, for God's sake, let me IN!!
Kris sat in his office on the CFA Washington, staring
listlessly at the reports from the Quartermaster office, paying little
attention to the commotion outside. He didn't care about how expensive
raw materials for shipbuilding had suddenly become, or how the new
trainees would be short of equipment, or any of a number of other
problems the bureaucrats were shoving back at him. With the war over,
his sense of duty had collapsed, replaced by a deep depression which
had only lifted slightly that night two days before with Rayna, when
he'd managed to get stinking drunk. Looking out the window into the
Home Fleet, he thought of the losses they'd incurred. Twenty thousand
dead at Wilderness. Another thirty dead in the big battle, and three
more with the starfighter combat over the AT&T. And each time, as he
considered each death, his mind returned to one name.
Washuu.
For so long, he'd taken the little mad scientist for granted,
the stable anchor he held on to as all the others around him changed,
grew older, and more often than not, died. The person whom understood
him better than anyone- than Sparky, than Rianna, than Terri, anyone.
And he'd totally missed the fact, somehow, that he loved her.
Goddamn pride, he thought, holding a grudge for four hundred
years, ignoring your feelings, then not seeing them for what they
were. And now it's too late, he thought, as another crying fit took
him deeper into his depression. Had anyone been there to see, the hint
of a dull red aura might have caught their eye, as Kris let the wave
of despair and regret wash over him.
He almost missed the sudden jab of cold fear in his gut- it
resonated so well with his current emotion- but the voiceless,
wordless message which followed caught his attention.
%Red.%
An image of a man in a windbreaker, tall, unafraid, and
perpetually cheerful, popped into Kris' mind... an idealized image, he
noted, of himself.
*I am here,* he responded, and he reached back along the link,
securing it with his own meager skills. His mind formed another image,
which fluttered down the link before he could recall it; a dark woman,
armored and caped and yet also wearing a dingy flight suit; *Rianna.*
%Come here.%
Another image, a debris field, a large station- Wilderness.
*Why?* he asked, confusion and pain bleeding into the sending.
%She needs you now.%
And a third image appeared.
*Washuu...*
Kris gulped, shaking violently.
*I come,* he sent, and the link collapsed. Kris fell back into
his seat, sweating, cold tremors siezing his body. God help me, he
thought, I have to get to Wilderness. Right this fucking minute.
Steadying himself as much as he could, he leaped up and ran through
the office door, scattering loose papers and datapadds behind him.
Mayl caught Rianna as she fell forward, gasping for air,
exhausted. "He... he is coming," Rianna gasped, eyes still closed,
voice barely audible.
"Who? Ri, who's coming, what are you talking about?" Mayl
asked.
"He is coming," Rianna repeated, and then she sagged limply in
Mayl's hands. Her breathing smoothed and deepened, and before Mayl
realized it, Rianna was fast asleep.
"Ri?" Mayl asked, shaking Rianna slightly. When this produced
no response, she shook harder, shouting, "Rianna, wake _up!_" Rianna
didn't even flinch.
Ears drooping, Mayl laid Rianna beside Washuu's body. Just
great, she thought to herself, first we lose a great chance to clean
up on salvage, then we have to fight off a bunch of pirates to save
someone who may or may not be alive, and now I've got _two_ bodies to
hand over to the medics when we land.
Why couldn't privateering ever be easy?
Ch. 14/THEN
CFMF Washington
May 22, 2300
".. and therefore, by two-thirds majority vote on two-thirds of all ships in the Tactical Fleet, the Confederate Freespacers Mercenary Fleet issues you, Vice Admiral Robert Hemphill, a vote of No Confidence, and hereby demands that you remove yourself from your position as Commander in Chief of all CFMF forces, effective immediately. Refusal to comply will result in a courts martial as per the guidelines set down in Article XVI of the CFMF Book of Regulations."
Kris nodded with satisfaction as he slid the index cards into his dress tunic's breast pocket. As of 2032 hours Fleet time the previous night, the words had the weight of law; rather than hold a fleet-wide election, which Hemphill would have denied or stalled, Kris had organized elections on each ship, one at a time, apparently a spontaneous reaction to Hemphill's ultratimid leadership.
Of course, it fooled nobody- in this case, it wasn't meant to- but it had the law backing it, leaving Hemphill helpless to stop it.
Of course, there were a couple of casualties- JJ #15 had been the first, taking the fall for the renegade CFMF forces' defection. Also, as with any Vote of Confidence, a number of captains and first officers had fallen by the wayside, some Hemphill's political cronies, others just unpopular. Kris took notes on each officer removed; some of them were worth keeping around for future commands, if the openings came around.
Kris looked at the reflection in the mirror- not all that different, really, from the Condorcets, only with dark eyes and blonde-brown hair instead of the straw-yellow hair and blue-grey eyes the many Jjs had sported down the years. His uniform fit excellently, the grey fabric and gold trim actually complimenting his body instead of hanging on him like a pillowcase.
The door chimed, drawing Kris out of his self-examination. "C'min!" he called, giving his tunic a last brush before turning to face whoever was coming through the door.
Lieutenant Azland stepped through the door, her posture rigid and military- robotic? Kris smirked to himself, remembering her origins. "What can I do for your, Lieutenant?"
It didn't quite register with Kris that May's eyes had turned bright, glowing red.
<N7A-M1 KILLER DOLL SYSTEMS ACTIVE>
<TARGETING PROTOCOL ACTIVE>
<TARGET CONFIRMED - FIRING>
May's arm jerked upwards, a Blastech BL-22 holdout blaster pistol dropping into her palm as it came up, shots firing as soon as her hand wrapped around the grip. Kris grunted as the first couple of bolts caught him by surprise, slamming into his heart, burning a hole in his chest...
Kris fell to his knees, forced himself to concentrate, relax, open himself to the Force... he reached out mentally, sensed the power pack in the blaster's magazine, quietly drained it, letting the last few shots get absorbed by his system. As he stood up and ignited his beemstaff, his chest finished healing itself, the skin growing back beneath his scorched, bloodied tunic.
"Why?" Kris said quietly, unconsciously shifting into a defensive posture with his staff. "Why are you trying to kill me?"
<ERROR! PISTOL MALFUNCTION>
<SHOTS FIRED: 7>
<SHOTS HIT: 100%>
<EFFECTIVENESS: NONE>
<MANUAL COMBAT PROTOCOL ACTIVE>
<STRENGTH BOOST PROTOCOL ACTIVE>
<ANALYZING TARGET COMBAT STANCE>
<ANALYZING 743,212 POSSIBLE RESPONSES.... DONE>
<TARGET CONFIRMED - ATTACKING>
May made no sound, simply shifted stance, then slid beneath and to the right of Kris' staff, rising up just beside his right shoulder. With her right hand, she gripped his shoulder, while her left hand rose to deliver a killer blow to the back of his neck.
Kris leaned backward, spun his hands around, brought his beamstaff up across May's upper right arm, severing it in a spray of sparks and Buma nutrient fluid.
With May's lower arm hanging limp from his shoulder, fingers still closed in a crushing grip, Kris pivoted on one foot, stepping away from May's blow. As May's arm came down, Kris swept his staff around, cutting it off at the shoulder, watching dispassionately as the flesh and metal fell to the ground, leaving torn skin and titanium gears sticking out of the buma.
"You can't win, May," Kris said quietly. "Talk to me. You don't have to die like this, May. Why did you attack me?"
<ERROR! STRUCTURAL FAILURE- RIGHT ARM, LEFT ARM>
<ERROR! NUTRIENT LOSS - SEALING>
<ERROR! ELECTRICAL SYSTEM SHORTS - REPAIRING>
<ATTACK UNSUCCESSFUL>
<ESTIMATED CHANCES OF SUCCESSFUL ATTACK: 0.0%>
<ESTIMATED CHANCES OF ESCAPE: 0.0%>
<SELF DESTRUCT PROTOCOL ACTIVE>
<ERROR!! SELF DESTRUCT PROTOCOL CORRUPTED - UNABLE TO PROCESS- THROTTLING>
<ERROR!! DEFENSE PROTOCOL CORRUPTED - UNABLE TO PROCESS - THROTTLING>
<ERROR!! N7A-M1 KILLER DOLL SYSTEMS --->
<----------------------------->
<----------------------------->
May collapsed to the floor, her eyes returning to their normal purple color, her shoulder and arm stump leaking traces of nutrient fluid into the carpeting. She looked up at Kris, blinked, and said quietly, "I appear to have lost both my arms, Admiral. Can you tell me what has happened?"
Kris let the beamsaber wink out of existence and knelt beside the wounded Buma. "Status report, Lieutenant," he said quietly.
"My memory has... holes... in it, Admiral," May said at last. Her eyes shifted in and out of focus, her voice slurred slightly as she added, "My data banks seem to be partially corrupted... I am recieving multiple errors... " Her eyes focused on Kris again, and a single tear crept down her cheek. "The corruption appears to be growing.... Admiral, I'm scared."
Kris lifted May's torso off the floor, looked into the dark, darker eyes, whispered, "Can't you do anything to stop the corruption?"
May tried to nod; the motion degenerated into a few stiff jerks down and up. "Iii... I think so, Admiral. Emergency protection mode-" May's body went stiff and cold, her eyes darkening almost to total blackness.
"May?" Kris gave May a quick shake. "Lieutenant Azland, respond."
May didn't make a move.
Kris gripped May's maimed, motionless body to his chest and shouted, "WASHUU!!!"
The sound echoed through the corridors of the still awakening ship.
"WASHUUUUUU!!!!!"
Ch. 14/NOW
Washuu's Lab
August 23, 2388
"ZATHRAS!"
The voice which roared through the Lab echoed among the walls,
conduits, tanks and landscaping with the wild energy of a desperate
man. The sound carried far beyond the range of intelligibility,
echoing miles away from the main 'foyer' region into corners which
even the Lab's rightful mistress seldom went anymore. It was hardly
the most efficient method of summoning someone- after all, the Lab was
spread out among the surfaces of five M-class planets- but it was none
the less impressive.
The object of the summons shambled down one of the corridors
into the 'foyer' of the Lab. "Zathras is coming," he mumbled. "Zathras
was in the middle of packing his favorite socks, but that is not
important, no. Socks knit in the Atlantean Empire, no, those are not
important. Great Professor Washuu's experiment, that-"
Kris grabbed Zathras' vest and stared down into his lunpy,
hairy face. "I need to move the Lab door," he snarled, "show me how
it's done. NOW."
"Zathras does not know." Zathras smiled reassuringly as Kris
lifted him off the floor. "Knowing, Zathras would show. Not knowing,
Zathras cannot show. Zathras would love to show, but Zathras does not
have the knack."
Kris dropped Zathras back to the floor, mouthing silent
obscenities as he looked around in frustration. Finally, his eyes
rested on the lonely holoterm still active in the foyer. Pointing to
the terminal, he asked, "Do you know how to use that?"
Zathras shrugs. "Zathras thinks he does. Of course, Zathras
has been wrong before, but Zathras will try his best."
"Good," Kris nodded. "I need to make an interdimensional call.
You've got five minutes to show me how."
The paramedic crew scrambled up the Centurion's main gangplank
almost as soon as it dropped onto the deck of Wilderness Station's
Hangar Two. The leader of the group paid little attention to the mess,
or the fact that the elf piloting the ship was still in her nightgown,
and asked, "Where's the medical emergency?"
"Cargo hold," she replied immediately, favoring the team with
a glance before marching ahead of them. "This way. I've done
everything I can to keep things stable."
The medics followed the elf through the narrow passageway
through the crew compartments and into the cargo bay. Once inside, the
medics looked at the two figures lying flat on the deck- one a
withered, scarred mummy, the other an unconscious young woman with
jet-black hair and golden horns- for all of a second before bringing
up a stretcher and loading Rianna onto it. "Don't worry," the medics'
leader said, "she should be all right now."
Mayl gave the leader a blank stare as he watched his crew
start to wheel Rianna's limp form back the way they'd come. "Um, hey!"
she barked at last, grabbing him by the arm as he was about to follow
them. "What, what -- where are you doing?"
The medic rolled his eyes and said, "Where we are going is
sickbay. What we are doing is taking this young lady there. You -did-
call us for a medical emergency, remember?"
"Yeah, I did, and you left her _lying_ there!" she huffed,
putting her fists on her hips. "Rianna'll get better if she has time
to sleep it off, but Professor Hakubi needs help _now_!"
"You mean -that?-" the medic asked, pointing with shock at the
other body on the deck. "Miss, I hate to break this to you, but the
only help that'll do -that- any good will be a mortician."
"Look," Mayl snapped, now becoming visibly impatient, "I know
she looks bad -- first I saw of her, I thought the same thing -- but I
heard her heart beat! She _is_ alive in there, just _barely_, and she
needs help!"
"All right, all right," the medic groaned, pulling out a
tricorder and holding it over the body. "What species is she?"
Mayl opened her mouth to reply, paused, looked thoughtful for
a moment, and then said, "I'm not exactly sure ... some sort of
prolonged human, I'd guess. She's looked about twelve for as long as
I've known her."
"Hm." The medic looked at the scanner's readout for several
minutes before closing it up again. "Miss, I'm sorry, but what you
heard must have been some random spasm. I'm only reading a trace of
brain activity, her blood pressure is nonexistent, and there's no sign
of movement or chemical activity at the cellular level." The tricorder
beeped as Mayl's ears picked up another of those slow thup-thumps.
"There's another one now," the medic said, not bothering to reopen the
tricorder.
"There it was!" Mayl chirped frantically, gesturing at the
withered body. "Another heartbeat! That one was ... almost six
minutes! Tch'unnk'luongo, she's getting worse! Please, get a gurney
up here quick!"
"Now, look, miss," the medic said firmly, "we're already
stuffed full of refugees and casualties from the past week. Thanks to
those scavengers fighting each other, we're getting more in every
hour. We're operating with volunteers and conscripts and half the
equipment and supplies we should have. We don't have time or
facilities to waste on a dead woman. I'm sorry."
"She's _not_ _dead_, you j'ttatten--!" Mayl cut off her next
line of curses, and instead emphasized her point by hoisting the
hapless physician up off his feet by his lapels and roaring, "Get that
gurney up here or they're going to have to send one FOR YOU!"
The medic stared down at the furious elf and, rather than
argue, waved to one of the other medics. "Do what she says," he
said shakily.
"THANK you," Mayl sighed, dropping him to his feet and
returning her attention to the body lying on the deck. What did you
want to fly into that battle for? she thought. You never went into a
battle before. You hated fighting. In fact, I don't think I've ever
seen you leave your lab...
Mayl's thoughts were interrupted by a quiet exchange just
beyond the sickbay doors. The first voice she recognized as one of the
orderlies: "Sir, you aren't permitted in there."
The second voice, which Mayl really hadn't expected, at least
not so soon, said in that funny way Rianna used when she really wanted
something badly, >>I have a perfect right to see my patient.<<
"You have a perfect right to see your patient," the orderly
echoed.
>>There is nothing wrong with me going in,<< Redneck's voice
continued.
"There is nothing wrong with you going in," the orderly
replied.
(>>Have a nice day, sir,<<) Redneck's voice muttered.
"Have a nice day, sir," the orderly replied.
A moment later, a wild-haired, anxious-looking Kris Overstreet
strode into the room, followed closely by Gina Shannon. Both wore lab
coats, although Red wore his as if he'd slept in it. When he saw Mayl,
his demeanor seemed to lighten. "Mayl!" he gasped. "Thank God! Where's
Washuu?"
Mayl's fearful eyes regarded him for a moment before her hand
dutifully pointed to a stretcher, where the small, frail form of
Washuu Hakubi lay in alarming stillness.
Red's jaw dropped visibly at the sight of the shriveled body
on the stretcher. "Oh, my God..." he gasped. Holding a hand out, he
barked, "Scanner." Gina dropped a tricorder into the waiting hand, and
with rapid, fumbling movements, Kris opened the case, pulled out the
remote sensor and ran it across the body, muttering incomprehensibly
as he did so.
"Her..." Mayl's voice caught in her throat. She swallowed
and continued, "Her last heartbeat was ... about three minutes ago.
They're ... about six-and-a-half minutes apart now ... I hope you have
an idea..."
"...so do I," Red muttered. "She's in hibernation, must have
been for days and days..." He slapped the tricorder's case shut, then
tried to replace the sensor, reopened the tricorder, dropped the
sensor into place, and slung the still-open scanner over his shoulder.
"Help me with the stretcher, for God's sake, we gotta get her to the
Lab, come on, Christ this is all my fault..."
Mayl moved quickly, taking the foot of the gurney with both
hands and guiding it in the Admiral's wake. "We wouldn't've even
found her without Rianna's help ... I think she heard her calling for
help or something. She collapsed after calling for you; she's a
couple stretchers over that way." She waved momentarily with one
arm.
"Bring her too," Kris ordered, not looking up. Under his voice
he began muttering, as his hand guided the gurney forward,
"christWashuulivedammitcomeonstaywithus..."
Gina stepped aside to allow Redneck to pass, then walked back
to help Mayl with the second gurney. Mayl already had Rianna's
stretcher pointed in Red's direction when Gina arrived, grabbing the
nearest edge and pulling it forward. "So," Mayl asked quietly, "d'you
think'll pull through?"
"I honestly don't know," Gina said. "If she doesn't, though,
it'll kill Kris."
"I meant him," Mayl whispered, giving a long, worried look to
the back of Redneck's head before returning her concentration to the
task at hand.
"I don't know about you," Gina answered, "but if it weren't
for the fact that he knows Washuu's system as well as anyone, if not
better, I wouldn't let him near anything sharp."
The three proceeded in silence (except for Kris' mumbling) to
the large sliding GD doors, through them into Gina's Lab complex, and
through a second set of doors into the foyer of Washuu's lab. Once
Gina's Lab Door closed behind them, Kris paused, picked up the
tricorder, and waved it over Rianna. Nodding at the result, he waved
towards a distant doorway. "Gina, take Ri over to the bunk and get her
bedded in. She'll be fine with some sleep."
Turning to Mayl, he asked, "How did you find Washuu, anyway? I
thought she was blasted to bits."
"That's not too far from the truth," she replied quietly. "We
were about to pick up some prime parts for salvage when Rianna had me
dump what I was after and flew us to what was left of a Dragonfly. It
was completely demolished -- even the service droid was gone -- but
she was still in one piece, in the cockpit."
"My God," Kris gasped. Turning away from Mayl and the gurney,
he bellowed, "ZATHRAS!!!" Mayl's ears rang from the sheer volume of
the shout. and even as she dipped her ears to muffle the echo he
shouted even louder, "**ZATH-RAAAAAS!!!!!**"
"owie."
A bent-looking man, with strange sideburns framing a
misshapen-looking face, shambled over to them. "Zathras is coming!" he
called. "What can Zathras do to help? Zathras is always glad to help."
Pausing, the strange man looked up thoughtfully and said, "Wait. This
is not strictly true. Sometimes Zathras is very miserable to help.
Other times Zathras is indifferent. But mostly, Zathras accepts his
fate. Zathras must help, therefore-"
"Can it," Red barked. "Get me pencil, paper, something for
Mayl to eat, something for Mayl to wear, and then help me transfer
Washuu to the examination table."
Zathras nodded. "Please to follow Zathras, young miss," he
rasped. "You are in good hands with Zathras."
Mayl nodded, but paused a moment to give Kris's arm a
reassuring squeeze. She wanted to tell him things would work out, but
the words refused to come out; probably because she wasn't sure she
believed them herself. Instead, she nodded, and then followed Zathras
in silence.
Mayl returned wearing a red and green wrap and a confused
expression. The reason for the confusion, or for a great part of it,
shambled along with a tray piled high with sandwiches, maintaining a
steady monologue. "Zathras is too old, far too old to be looking for
work. But Zathras' retirement plan went -phfft- with Atlantis, so
Zathras must work to eat. It is a hard life, but Zatrhas does not
complain." Mayl almost choked at that last; Zathras' speech seemed to
be nothing but complaints.
The two walked slowly to the examination area, where Red stood
staring over Washuu's body. In the time Mayl had spent with Mr.
Sunshine, Kris had found an IV stand and a bottle of some clear liquid
and had begun drip-feeding Washuu. His uniform tunic lay draped over
one of the nearby chairs, leaving him in his duty-uniform shirt and
slacks. He scribbled now and again on a small scratchpad, now slowly
and thoughtfully, now crossing out something angrily. He paid no
attention to the newcomers, save to reach out with his writing hand
and take the top sandwich from Zathras' tray.
Mayl nodded absently at the latest missive from her guide,
almost grateful for the distraction provided by the Admiral's
contagious intensity. She started to say something to him, but
immediately swallowed it; the answer to her asinine question was plain
in sight. Washuu wasn't doing okay, and neither was he. Carefully
taking the next sandwich from Zathras's plate and letting the latest
turn of his diatribe go unnoticed, she craned her neck to try to make
sense of the notepad, but she was too far back to read the scattered
and panicked handwriting.
Sighing, she shrank back and contented herself with just
watching for the time being, hardly noticing as she put the sandwich
repeatedly to her mouth, or even when her hand reached over to pick up
another one.
Five sandwiches later, she realized that her presence was
accomplishing nothing. Clearing her throat, she offered a small
"Excuse me..."
Kris looked up from his scribbling and grunted, "What's up?"
"I, um," Mayl stammered, "I'd better get back to the ship. I
just remembered that we left Subtracto all alone to deal with the
docking fees, and I need to get out there while there's still enough
salvage to pay for the hyperdrive repairs we need."
Kris nodded at this, then reached into his hip pocket and
withdrew a checkbook. He began making out a check, then stopped when
he noticed he was doing it in pencil. Grumbling to himself, he
withdrew his wallet and took out an credit card. "Here," he muttered,
handing it to Mayl.
"Um, that's really not, um, necessary, Admiral," Mayl
protested weakly. "I mean, I just, um..."
"There ain't no fuckin' way your ship is fit for that feeding
frenzy they call a salvage operation," Red growled. "TAKE it."
Mayl paused, then accepted the card. "Thank you," she said
quietly. "I'll ... I'll see to it you're paid back for everything we
use."
Kris grunted noncomittally and returned to considering
Washuu's body. Slowly at first, then with increasing confidence, he
began writing a list. "Zathras," he said, "I want you to find these
for me..."
He barely noticed as Mayl showed herself out.
Ch. 15/THEN
Aboard SDF-17 Wayward Son, Outer Sol System
November 14, 2001
The Wayward Son had restraunts, vending machines, and personal
kitchens throughout its massive bulk, thanks to the design genius (and
nostalgia) of Lord Fahrvergnugen, MegaZone, and Gryphon. However, the
need for the old-fashioned mess hall still existed, and twenty-four
hours a day crew members could get mass-produced, healthy and not too
unappetizing food served hot and fresh.
The fact that the mess hall's walls were bare steel and could
be hosed down easily made it the prime place for a food-fight; in
fact, these days that was the main reason people came here to eat at
all- that, and in one particular case, the fact that you could get
your food here faster, and eat it quicker, than anywhere else on the
ship.
Lieutenant j.g. Kristan "Redneck" Overstreet walked out of the
line with a heavily laden food tray. Unlike many who loaded up their
trays, though, he actually intended to eat everything on it. In fact,
he intended to eat it all within about ten minutes, since he had a
squadron briefing to attend in twenty, and launch right after that.
He'd need a heavy lunch, with hours in a Rapier cockpit ahead of him.
Looking around for a spot to set his tray down on, he noticed
Princess Asrial Arconian of Salusia, also a junior lieutenant on the
Son, walking towards a small little blonde woman with twin half-curled
horns on her head. Kris new her as Danilia Santova, another junior
lieutenant and a frequent collaborator with Martin Rose and the Clay
Pigeons.
Kris paused and watched the scene play out; Asrial smiling,
obviously asking if she could join the blonde woman. The blonde woman
steadily ignoring Asrial. Asrial pressing the point, probably asking
what's wrong. The blonde looking up with a stare of incredible anger
and hatred. Leave me alone. The words couldn't be heard across the
room, but they were easy to read on her lips. Asrial, shocked and
hurt, walked away and sat down by herself to eat, not even noticing
the stray slice of key-lime pie which narrowly missed her shoulder.
Kris looked directly at Asrial, who seemed to be lost in
thought, eating mechanically and slowly. Then he turned to Danilia,
who was waving hello to Deedlit Satori. She seemed to have totally
forgotten the incident; in fact, she looked more chipper than usual.
Somewhere in the back of Kris' mind, a button went -click-.
Kris strode purposely towards Dani, pausing only momentarily
when a glob of mashed potatoes caught him in the shoulder, and he
paused to dump his entire tray on its former owner. A moment later, he
stood over Dani, who noticed the shadow and looked up into the
Redneck's eyes. "Hi, Red!" she piped. "How's it going?"
"What the fuck was that bullshit you fucking pulled with
Asrial?" Kris growled. Dani's smile vanished; anyone who knew Kris
knew his profanity was in direct proportion to his emotional state,
and three gratuitous obscenities in one sentence was, to understate
the point, a bad sign.
"What was what?" she replied neutrally, quietly challenging
Red to make an issue of it.
"Asrial came over here and tried to be friendly with you," he
pressed, "and you fucking blew her off like she had the goddamn
Bubonic Plague or something. And then you go on happy and perky as
ever," he was beginning to shout now, pointing at Asrial as he ranted,
"while she sits by herself over there trying to figure out just what
the motherfucking hell she did WRONG!"
"I don't see how this is any of your business," Danilia said.
She was beginning to get not a little annoyed herself.
Red stifled a sudden urge to slap the smaller woman and forced
himself to calm down. "I happen to like Asrial," he said in a more
normal tone. "She is a very nice person. She is a good and reliable
and understanding friend to have, and she would never hurt anyone like
you just hurt her."
Dani matched Red stare for stare. In her eyes, he thought he
saw a deep, buried anger, something dark and unpleasant, and its
attention was riveted on him now. "I have my reasons for what I do,"
she said, calm, controlled, and much different from her normal,
carefree tones.
Red, being who he was, ignored the subtle hints to bug off.
"And I have my reasons for wanting to know what Asrial did..." A
thought occured to him. "Or who she is. Hm... she's blonde, maybe
you're jealous... no. you smiled at Deedlit when she came in, that
doesn't wash. Salusian? Same thing. What's different about Asrial..."
The missing piece slipped into place. "...except that Deeds
is, at best, a very minor royal, whereas Asrial is a princess...
that's it, isn't it?" He glared at Dani, feeling more angry than ever
as he continued, "You don't give a fuck about who Asrial is, do you?
All you see is the title, 'Princess Asrial.'" He glared silently at
Dani, waiting until he was calm enough to say the words, "I can't
believe you could be that shallow."
Dani glared silently back, defiant, unashamed.
Kris wanted to do any number of things, mostly violent, to
that defiant look, but instead he straightened and said, "Danilia... I
don't think I like you anymore." With that, he strode from the mess
hall, pausing to punch a vending machine as he passed it. The front of
the machine caved in, and its contents poured from the dispenser slot.
Red ignored it; he no longer had an appetite.
Ch. 15/NOW
A room in Washuu's lab
August 25, 2388
The universe seemed a little cooler, and a lot softer, than
she remembered last. Smelled cleaner, too. She was in a bed of some
sort... didn't feel like her bunk, it was too soft. And the
surrounding space felt too large to be the Centurion's crew quarters.
Time for visual input.
No, Rianna confirmed as her eyes opened and took in the large
room around her. This was definitely not the Centurion. In fact it
looked like one of the rooms from the Lab. The carefully cleaned white
cabintets, the bright light filtering in from the overhead skylight,
the smell of carefully filtered and ionized air- any one of these
would have been totally alien to the Mayl- contaminated world Ri had
spent the last several weeks in, but as a whole the room seemed to
scream MAD SCIENTIST AT WORK.
Either that, Rianna smirked, or HELP, I'M BEING HELD CAPTIVE
IN A SHOPPING MALL.
Rianna lay still in the soft bed, trying to piece together
what had happened since the trance. She remembered finding Red's mind,
and the series of images they had exchanged. She'd been flattered by
the image she's recieved of herself from Red; the warrior princess,
and also a simple privateer, each image part of the other. And then,
when she'd told him to come to Wilderness... Rianna repressed a shiver
at the glimpse of guilt, self-pity and despair which had leaked
through the link in response. Whatever had happened, Red felt
personally responsible... well, not exactly, Rianna thought, savoring
the memory, he feels responsible for something very specific. The
final image she had recieved had been even more chaotic, hope, light,
determination...
*I come.*
Rianna struggled to push memory forward beyond that point.
When the link collapsed, the strain had hit hard; she remembered
trying to tell Mayl that Red was on his way, but she had no way of
knowing if Mayl had heard; she didn't remember sensing Mayl at all,
much less any response from her.
Things got decidedly surreal at that point, images blurring
through her mind in a stream of subconscious thought. A few had been
dreams, without a doubt; a couple of them had been about to become
X-rated when the scene had subtly shifted to something else. So I
_did_ pass out, she thought, and someone brought me here. She sat up
slowly, working a knot out of the muscles in her neck. What had
happened?
The background hum of some heavy machinery somewhere caught
Rianna's attention, and something inside her seemed to be attracted to
the sound. Reaching out to the Force, she allowed her instincts to
guide her, and her senses told her an answer was through the door from
which the sound was coming. Getting to her feet, and allowing herself
one good stretch, popping several vertebrae back into alignment, she
walked through.
The room outside looked more like a park than a building:
overhead, a series of tanks and conduits stretched from beyond the
room on all sides, obscuring the distant ceiling overhead. Here and
there, waterfalls from the overhead tanks burbled into small canals in
the ground, watering the small trees arranged in a parklike fashion
around several walkways. Near the center of the immense space, a small
wooden door stood by itself, and beside it a small overstuffed cushion
floated in midair. The air thrummed with the background noise of
enormous engines running in the distance.
It was the Lab, all right.
Again, Rianna stretched out into the Force, searching for some
clue as to what had happened. Her senses were drawn to the sound of
crackling static electricity, not far away... and to the noticeable
disturbance in the Force she felt there. Trusting to her instincts,
she began walking towards the disturbance, trusting more to her Sith
training than to any outward sense.
Rianna found herself facing Washuu's favorite examination bed,
in a rear corner of the immense front room surrounded by miscellaneous
diagnostic equipment, scanners, and supply lockers and cabinets.
Today, however, the arrangement was a little different; it was the
scientist lying on the bed this time- or what there was of her. The
morbid form, naked except for a sheet pulled up to the waist, did not
look much better- any better- than when Rianna had found her, still
gray and shriveled up like a frostbitten leaf. An intraveneous needle
and feeder tube was strapped onto Washuu's left arm, leading up to a
half-full bottle of clear fluid hanging from a metal stand. For one
sick moment Rianna was reminded of a cadaver, sitting on a table
awaiting autopsy; she threw that thought away almost as soon as she'd
thought it. Rianna wondered again how long she'd been unconscious.
The man sitting beside the bed, occasionally flinching as a
tendril of electricity flickered from the static electricity field to
touch him, paid no mind to Rianna. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands
were shaking slightly, and every now and again the dull red glow
surrounding him flared into either a large red or brilliant white
aura, then died back down. A gray uniform tunic lay draped over the
back of his chair, his undershirt matted with sweat and wrinkled from
long wear.
In short, Kris was a wreck.
As Rianna took a step closer, her eyes fell on a slightly
mangled notepad near the table. Picking it up, she arched an
eyebrow at the panicked scrawling she saw:
-----------------------------------------------------
Regeration tank
useless
shock potential high
Jyurai
NO!
Shock GUARANTEED
TOO RISKY!!
Surgery
and do what?
restore energy encourage regeneration
Van de Graaff field?
Divine intervention
...yarite, HOW??
nutrient solution 1% saline
3%dextrose
0.5% protein mix
self-warming blanket _ retain heat energy_
static field unit--
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The notes stopped at that point because the paper below had
been ripped off. Rianna couldn't help noticing how the writing style
meshed almost perfectly with the rollercoaster of emotions she was
picking up from Redneck.
As she continued to watch, Kris began muttering in a low,
raspy voice, sentence fragments with no apparent meaning...:
"...didn't mean to ... such an idiot... you'll be alright, I'll see to
it... please, please..."
Good goddess, Rianna thought. How long has he been at
this? One thing was for sure: she needed to get his attention. "Red?"
Slowly, Kris looked upwards, saw the dark-haired woman
standing beside him, and croaked, "Hello, Ri'. Sleep well?" A weak
smile twisted his face, never touching his eyes.
"How long?" she asked without preamble.
Kris sat back in the chair, running his hand through his hair,
and sighed. "Um... I think today is Thursday... I got to Wilderness
about a half-hour after... well, Washuu's been in treatment for about
thirty-six hours. No response yet." Sighing again, he slumped forward
and said, "Not a fucking thing."
Rianna looked over at Washuu's small, fragile form. No
improvement in 36 hours... damn. "So... what all have you done for
her?"
Kris laughed two nervous, near-hysterical barks, then slumped
even further over and said, "Not much. I can't do anything radical
without the risk of shocking her into total collapse. I've been giving
her a steady IV drip of nutrients, and I've set up this static
field--" He waved a hand through the air over Washuu's bed, sending
mild sparks along his arm. "...in the hopes she'll absorb some of it.
Either she'll accept the new energy sources and regenerate... or it's
too late..." Kris sobbed loudly, sniffed, and choked out, "She's got
to regenerate on her own."
Rianna took all this in. She found herself grappling with a
brief wave of helplessness, caused in part by her own knowledge that
all her Force skills were useless here, but also because of what she
was sensing from Kris, who was most decidedly _not_ Force-blind. He
was running an emotional sine wave between hopeful and manically
grief-stricken, so fast Rianna felt she would need some kind of
oscilloscope to see it clearly.
Perhaps there was something she could do, after all. "So..."
she began, weighing her words very carefully. "There's nothing else
that can be done, correct?"
"Well..." Kris sighed, "Little Joe's keeping the fleet
running. Gina's outside the lab door, screening visitors. Zathras is
around somewhere, he brings me coffee and a sandwich every so often--"
(Rianna wondered to herself, Red _hates_ coffee.) "... but someone
has to be here to watch... so here I am." He chuckled, this time
wryly. "Seems that's all I'm good for these days."
Rianna arched an eyebrow. "Red... how long has it been since
you slept last?"
Kris leaned back again and stared at the ceiling, silently
mouthing words; Rianna felt a wave of confusion from him as he
struggled to concentrate. Finally, he said, "Saturday night. When I
got drunk with Rayna... um, General Tangril."
"*Saturday*?" Rianna replied, shocked. "We found Washuu on
Tuesday, and today's Thursday... and you are still *sitting here*,
Red?" More and more she didn't like the disturbance she felt.
"Before..." Kris gasped, smothering a wave of mixed hope and
despair, and continued, "Before you found Washuu, I couldn't sleep
from the memories, the guilt... and now..." He looked up at her,
hitting her with every ounce of love, pain, despair, guilt, and hope
in his soul, "I _have_ to be here for her. I HAVE to." Looking back
to Washuu, he murmured, "I never knew just how much a part of me she
was. She's my balance, Ri, my other half..." Again his mouth moved
voicelessly, and a complex wave of emotions flickered past too quickly
for Rianna to sift. "I have to be here," he said again, and fell
silent.
"Red..." Rianna sighed quietly. "Right now, where you have to
be -- no, where you _need_ to be -- is in bed. You just told me
you've done everything you can for her. And I understand how much you
want to be here. But right now, in your condition? I don't care if
Washuu _is_ Force-blind. Your emotional and mental state is
fluctuating so badly that you just might be doing more harm than good
by staying here now. You might do something wrong. Did you think of
that?"
For a long moment, Kris sat quiet; apparently, he hadn't
thought about it, but he was thinking about it now. Then, perceptibly,
his resolve strengthened. The red aura which had flickered and flared
around him ceased, and in a calm and very carefully controlled voice,
he answered, "No. No, I don't think it is harming her. If she is
getting anything from me, it's my love for her, my worry for her, and
the knowledge that I am _HERE_ waiting for her..." The control
flickered, then firmed, and he finished, "I have to be here, Rianna.
No matter what."
"Kristan, I admire your dedication," Rianna answered, her
voice becoming equally calm. "And I don't dispute the power of your
love for her. But I still believe you would do her a greater service
by getting some sleep now. There's nothing more to be done. And no
one else will come in here--"
At the mention of someone invading the lab, Kris' aura
returned, red and flaming, for a brief moment; then it vanished, and
in a low and unusually dark voice, Kris growled, "DAMN STRAIGHT
nobody's comin' in here."
Rianna almost took a step back. She did not like what she had
just felt, and her foresight warned of several possible troubles if
something wasn't done and soon. "All right, Red," Rianna said, the
Force welling up in her throat. She didn't want to do this to him --
she knew how he hated it -- but there were no options left to her.
"That will be quite enough. >>You need to sleep now.<<"
At the first hint of the Voice, Kris sat up straight, tensing,
and suddenly, his emotions -vanished- from Rianna's perception. For a
long second, he stared directly into Rianna's eyes, calm and
collected; Jedi battle calm.
Then, the moment passed, Kris' control flickered, and he
yawned, loudly and widely.
"*You need to sleep NOW*," Rianna repeated, taking full
advantage of the opening, her eyes narrowing to slits.
Kris struggled to suppress another yawn, then released it, and
then, he murmured: "I... need... to stay... to sleep..." Then, slowly
but fluidly, he leaned forward in the chair, electricity dancing
around him as he fell, and he lay his head and sholders onto the bed
beside Washuu's body. After a moment, his arms curled up beneath his
head; then, his breathing deepened, and Rianna felt the last remnant
of his will fade into a sound, dreamless sleep.
Rianna let out a long sigh and relaxed, glad she had been able
to win that small exchange. With that horrendous emotional
rollercoaster finally shut down, the tension in the room quickly
faded. Rianna took a few steps closer, and silently regarded the
still form of Washuu for a few ong moments. "Washuu," she spoke
quietly at length. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I think he's
finally made his choice." Then she turned to the sleeping Redneck and
regarded him in much the same way, thinking about what she had felt
from him, about the way the power had resonated...
Sooner or later, Kristan, Rianna thought. You are going to
know the power of the Dark Side. And I hope to the heavens you will
be prepared when that happens.
That said, she scanned her surroundings for a chair, so that
she could begin her own vigil over Washuu. Yawning slightly, she
thought to herself, I hope I don't keel over myself before this is
over...