![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Yes yes, i know - you're all waiting with bated breath!
Heeeee.
NaNo progress so far:
No *quite* what i'd like it to be, but still...not bad. Actual word count, including the bit i had done *before* November 1st is 22,408. So, doing good. :)
I've decided that if i'm actually going to *publish*, it's probably not a good idea to have this out there for public consumption. Blah. Sorry about that, flist.
And now, on to part two of Space!Spander! Previous parts are here.
The Segue was a bar and restaurant. It was expensive, quiet and not quite dim enough, all of which made Spike nervous. Not a place Spike wanted to make deals in, or settle bounties in - not a place he wanted to be in. At least in his Captain's jacket and the trousers with the pale charcoal stripe down the leg he looked like a legitimate trader and not what he really was. Fenris was tolerant, but individual businesses could still bar him if they thought he'd bring trouble - and lose them money. He didn't fit here and he was pretty sure the Chaddock he was meeting had done it on purpose. Hoping to throw him off or maybe to get him thrown out. The demon stirred inside, anger building, but Spike did his best to ignore it.
He took a deep breath as he walked in, scenting the air. Humans, Outsiders, Chaddock. A vamp or two and maybe a Fairy. Real wood and stone in the construction, real whiskey and gin in the glasses and Spike felt the demon pushing again. Wanting to make a little noise. He saw his contact right off - smiled tightly at the hostess who approached with small sneer and a lifted eyebrow, pale blonde hair done up in a twist and the latest in Outsider jewelry draping her throat.
"Can I help you?" she asked, giving Spike a raking once-over and he drew himself up straight and dug out a hand-rolled smoke - put it between his lips and felt for his lighter. She glared.
"I see my party, love - care to bring me a whiskey?"
"I'll have your server come over," the woman said frostily. "Smoking is allowed only at the bar."
Spike shrugged. "I'll be done in a minute, ducks, no worries." The hostess turned on her heel and stalked away. Spike strode to the table where his contact waited in solitary splendor. A Chaddock, second of the third alien species humanity had been introduced to. Chaddock and Outsiders had had an understanding for about two hundred years before Outsiders had found Earth space, and where Outsiders fought, Chaddock did business. Nobody beat Chaddock for thinking up inventive new weapons, poisons and fiddly little gizmos that could run entire households or map the brain-waves of a slug. The myriad diseases, psychosis and abilities of humanity and demon-kind were a giant puzzle of fascinating problems that Chaddock scientists were unraveling with gusto.
Spike sat down, legs sprawled and the smoke clenched between his teeth. He flicked his lighter open and sparked his cigarette - blew out a plume of smoke over the Chaddock's head. *Better to hang for a sheep than a lamb. Damn Jack, anyway.* Jack - Fat Jack - glared disapprovingly, bulging eyes and neck-less, squat torso radiating irritation
"Do you have no manners?"
"Not really. Do you have any sense?"
Fat Jack drew himself up, bristling - swelling like the toad his race resembled. "I am meeting some colleagues of mine. We are discussing a way-station between Farpoint and Uckt. My egg-set will run it." Fat Jack smoothed the front of his pea-soup-green suit - laced stubby, webbed fingers together and leaned back in his chair. "It is a great opportunity."
"Yeah, so's this - do it right and I won't gut you." Fat Jack smelled faintly but distinctly of stagnant water and dead vegetation - a thick scent that was suddenly spiked with ammonia as he registered Spike's threat and his heart started to beat faster. Spike lifted his chin as the server hurried over, folded length of linen over his arm and an old-fashioned pad and pen in his hands. "Whiskey, neat, double. And whatever Fat Jack here is having." The Chaddock's slitted nostrils flared a bit at the nick-name but he nodded shortly and held up a glass of something palely green. The server darted off with a breathed Yes, sir. Spike smoked, watching Jack calm himself by distraction - fiddling with the napkin and utensils and his glass.
"I should have known better than to think you would be civil. I suppose we should get this over before my real meeting starts."
"Shouldn't have picked such a bloody inappropriate place, Jack, and you know it," Spike muttered, digging into his inner breast pocket. Not enough shadows, not enough noise and this was looking worse and worse. The table of Outsiders near the door suddenly broke into barking, staccato laughter and Jack jumped, marbled-yellow eyes darting to them and away. *Oh bloody hell. Jack, you miserable toad. Knew you'd try something...* Spike pulled a small, wrapped box out of his pocket and then fumbled it, dropping it to the thick carpet and bending down, out of Fat Jack's line of sight. "Nia, find a schematic for this place - tell me there's another way out besides the front door. Dog trouble." Throat movement was minimal with a sub-vocal mic but he wasn't taking any chances.
"On it," Nia said, and Spike sat slowly back up - put the box on the table and slid it forward several inches.
"There's your prize, Fat Jack."
"Ah, yes." Jack reached into his own jacket - froze for a moment when Spike tensed and then continued his movement, going slow. "What, you are nervous? Do you think I would - would 'try something', as you say?"
"I think you'd sell the eggs of your ancestors if the price was right," Spike said, and the dull yellow-brown of Fat Jack's face flushed to an equally dull umber.
"You dare," he hissed, and Spike leaned forward over the table, his hand coming down on the box and his other reaching to pat Fat Jack's jowly cheek. The Chaddock flinched from the smoldering cigarette between Spike's fingers, his breathing becoming a little labored.
"I more than dare. Give me the fee, right now." Spike watched as Jack fumbled in his pocket and then drew out a magnetic card. Electronic bank check - drawn on the Fenris main branch and cashable anywhere on the station - on any station within a skip-length away. *Bloody thing had better have my money on it.*
"I have never been so insulted. This is the last time my House does business with you or any vampire!" Jack wheezed, and Spike plucked the card from his fingers - shoved the box across the table.
"Probably a wise move on your part. Us vamps, we're an untrustworthy lot." Spike shoved the card into the little reader he carried - watched as the fee amount popped up on the display. *At least he didn't try to short me. Bloody toad.*
"I see how your mind operates. You do not even trust the one who employs you!" Jack looked outraged at the presence of the reader, but Spike hadn't gotten to where he was by blindly trusting the other criminals.
"The ones who employee me are usually the worst of the lot," Spike mumbled. He hit the sequence that transferred the money - shoved card and reader into his pocket and dropped the butt of his smoke into Jack's mostly-gone drink. Behind the Chaddock's head he saw their server come out of the bar with a tray and then stop - turn around sharply and disappear. *Wait for it...*
"Hello, Sss'ike." A bony hand - like an articulated steel vise - closed on Spike's shoulder. "Sso 'ood to ssee 'oo."
Spike looked up, into whiteless eyes set aslant in the narrow, dog-like face. At an expanse of gleaming ivory teeth and enough muscle to punch a hole straight through four inches of plex. Or a vamp's heart. "Y'yis. Likewise, I'm sure. But I've got appointments to keep -" He pushed up and the Outsider's hand easily slammed him back down.
"No' any moore, Sss'ike."
Xander stomped down the corridor, opposite hand fisted around his cut one, cursing. Mostly cursing Ferro. His smugness, his greater height - his rightness, because Spike would bitch if the Dru smelled of Eau de Xander-blood. *Stupid vampires and their stupid super-senses and their stupid ideas about humans,* Xander thought. But he was kind of grinning too, because there was nothing in the fucking universe sexier than a possessive Spike who had decided a naked body-check was in order. At least, nothing sexier to Xander. *My possessive vampire.*
Xander bumped the door-switch on the wall with his elbow and stepped into the infirmary. It was about the size of a medium walk-in closet, big enough for two narrow bunks and a wall-locker of supplies, plus a ceiling-mounted diagnostic unit that they'd 'acquired' five jobs ago. Xander stuck his hand under the bell cover of the 'sonic and watched as the inaudible waves of sound vibrated the blood off his hand. A tiny pump suctioned it away, straight into a flash-incinerator. The 'sonic kind of tickled.
He poked around in the cabinet until he found the aerosol can of nu-skin and sprayed a layer over the cut, pressing the edges of the wound together for a few seconds while the chemical dried. A little blood seeped out, making the patch a spotty kind of pink. It was dry, sealed, and the nu-skin would kill any bugs he might have picked up. Good enough. Xander wanted to get the filters done. Fenris had some very...novel places of entertainment and he intended to drag Spike to at least three. Maybe four. This job promised to be particularly lucrative and they all needed a break.
*A little break with my honey and no fucking jobs, no toads, no dogs. No shooting and no fighting and no damn deals. We are job free for a month at least, after this. Skip over to Rennick Station and get the damn enviro computer fixed so we don't wake up to another tropical fucking rain storm. Maybe go planet-side, do some swimming.* Rennick orbited an Earth-like planet whose sun was almost permanently hidden behind dense clouds - a bit of a vampire resort and it had coastline, with a warm, saline sea. Xander missed swimming. The wave-pools at Midway just weren't the same.
And they smelled like wet dog.
Xander tidied up and left the infirmary - stopped in the galley for a soda, snugging the spill-proof lid on tight. One incident with a high-vee turn and an uncapped drink had been plenty, thank you. Ferro still ribbed him about it. He'd been new, then. Well, newer. He wasn't quite so new now.
*Almost fifty years...* Xander touched the tags that hung around his neck - reminder and promise. He took a drink of his soda and strolled down the corridor and around, heading for Ferro's office. It was locked. *Fucker. Is he...taking a break?* Xander grinned to himself. Interrupting Ferro in the middle of a 'break' would be perfect compensation for locking up his filters. Xander started to tap in the master override code. Ferro seemed to forget that Xander was the geek on this ship.
"Xander, get up here!" Ferro, yelling over the com and right after there was -
"Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck!" Nia cursing when she almost never did and Xander ran - slammed his palm down on the lift switch and winced as the cut throbbed.
"What the fuck's going on?"
"Fuckin' toad fuck -" Nia and Ferro both losing what coherency they usually had and Xander squeezed through the too-slow lift doors - punched for the bridge, bouncing on his toes - palm flat to the cool plastic and adrenalin making his heart thump almost painfully in his chest.
*Damnit, damnit - knew this job was gonna be bad! Fucking with things we shouldn't - steal a m'ryi - sure, why not? It's only the closest thing to a fuckin' religious relic any dog's got!* The doors slid open and Xander almost fell out of the lift - did a little hop to save himself and staggered past Spike's chair to Ferro.
"Tell me what the fuck is -"
"Somebody fired - somebody had a gun, gotta get the Cap'n out of that damn bar -!"
"Fucking Fat Jack double-crossed him -!" Nia and Ferro at the same time, Nia's hands flying over her boards, using whatever Fairy magic she had to get whatever she needed for Spike.
*Gun? Jesus - Christ, who the hell is crazy enough -* "Where the hell is Spike? What -"
"I'm on it, Xander -" Nia snapped, then made a small noise of triumph when a schematic flashed up on her board. Station blueprints that nobody was supposed to see.
*Wonder if what she does is real magic or just... Keep meaning to ask and then when I remember to ask I forget to ask, wonder if that's magic too...* Xander felt sweat, cold and crawly, going down his spine and he ruthlessly cut off the inner babble that still tended to swamp him in times of stress. At least he was mostly out of the habit of the babble actually coming out of his mouth.
"God damn dogs," Ferro growled, and Xander looked at the ready-lights coming up on his board and felt his stomach roll. They gleamed, muted red and orange, off Ferro's dark skin - smears of crimson down Ferro's scarred cheeks that was too much like blood. The rest of the bridge was in twilight, lit only by small overhead spots. Xander jerked away from Ferro's chair and fell into his own - auxiliary pilot boards - with a thud.
"Getting it, getting it -" Nia muttered, scrolling faster than a human could see and Xander powered up his station - shoved the soda into a clamp he'd jerry-rigged on the side of the chair. He fumbled the headset off its hook and onto his head, vague noises coming over the link from Spike and then Station buzzing in his other ear and he flinched.
"All ships, be advised we have lock-down proceeding, level three. Repeat, all ships, lock-down on level three, do not attempt to access level three. All personnel report to your ship or station." The advisory cycled again - repeated in Outsider and Chaddock and the pidgin that a lot of the less social Fairy used. Xander acknowledged, short and to the point, not wanting to draw any more attention than he had to. He flicked through a series of views from the ship's cameras: the Drusilla's outer hatch, the foot of the ramp leading up to it and a panning view of the section of dock just beyond the ramp. So far the only activity seemed to be a trio of dock-workers shoulder-deep in an electrical panel and an amorous couple leaning body-to-body against a pillar-like conduit. The alert was station-wide but they were keeping it confined to the Concourse so far. "Nothing's stirring."
"Got it!" Nia crowed. Xander switched the station-feed off for a minute so he could concentrate on Spike. "Cap'n - Two o'clock of the main door is hall, kitchen, storage - access to Maintenance three meters left, access to ventilation two meters and up."
"Right. Just gotta - fuckin' dogs and their fuckin' - Jesus! Almost - there -"
"I'm goin' live in three minutes, Nia," Ferro warned, fingers hovering, and Nia rolled her eyes at him - wide and pale and flaring with an unsettling sort of reddish gleam in the blue-white glow of her boards.
"No!" Xander tore his gaze away from Nia and glared at the other man, shutting his com off altogether so he wouldn't distract Spike. "Ferro - you gotta wait. If you power up, Station'll be all over us - Spike'll never get through!"
"If I don't, whatever ship those fuckin' dogs are off could get up behind us and take out our field array! We'll be fuckin' chaff."
"Just let Nia work her magic, man. Just - wait." Ferro snarled but his hand didn't move and Xander switched back to station-com, hearing questions and answers flying - hearing one Chaddock ship threatening undock and at least three Outsider crew getting damn close to opening fire. Chaddock ran - Outsiders fought. On the whole, Xander preferred the Chaddock way. Fairies - tended to just fade into the woodwork. "Fucking Christ - it's going all to hell out there - who fired?"
"Somebody did - not the Cap'n. Dog, I think -" Nia's gaze went unfocused and Xander switched back to her channel.
"I'm in the pipe, Nia - ventilation. Christ, it's filthy."
Nia pressed the audio bud deeper into one tall, pointed ear, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Five meters, there should be a hatch - type in....zero zero niner fiver tree..."
"Right. Where...?" Spike's voice, slightly flat and slightly muffled, effect of the sub-vocal mic.
"It's a service trunk. Go right - twenty meters...right again...ten...got another hatch?"
"Yeah - it's open - fuckin' hell!"
"What is it?" Xander hissed, and Nia waved her hand.
"It's cold storage for customs perishables - see the exit?"
"Pressure door - got a code?"
"No, a card - let me..." Nia's fingers danced over the keys, codes and access keys a blur on her screen.
"That's got it - I'm out. Fuckin' brilliant, you are. Power up - we are leaving."
"Hundred and seven meters hard left, Cap'n, we'll keep the light on." Nia grinned over at Xander and then Ferro with her sharp, white teeth. "Get those babies live, Tommy-boy,"
"Don't call me Tommy-boy, you fuckin' Fairy," Ferro muttered, but he was grinning too and Xander flopped back in his chair, a hand to his heart as if he could stop the too-fast pounding that was making him a little dizzy.
"You, Nia? Are a fuckin' genius!"
"Belt in, dumbass, we're gonna leave scorch-marks."
"Fuck yes," Xander said - wrestled the tangle of webbing straps up and over his shoulders and around his hips, snapping the tongues into the central buckle with sharp little snicks while Ferro did the same. Nia was never in her chair without the belts.
Xander switched back to the station channel, clearing his throat and taking a quick slurp of soda so his voice wouldn't crack. "Fenris Station, advise we're prepping for immediate undock. Ship personnel emergency. Ten minutes and counting, on my mark." Xander winced at the bark of irritation in Station's reply - the central communications hub was being bombarded with multiple undock advisories on top of the ongoing emergency on level three and they weren't happy. Apparently, Outsiders bringing out guns had caused a general panic and several groups of station personnel had started firing back - as had the crew of another Outsider ship. The original Outsiders were now barricaded in the Segue while Fenris militia tried to enforce a cease-fire to get them out.
Xander keyed up a screenfull of status reports showing system after system on the Drusilla going live, including Ferro's guns. There was a sudden, bone-deep hum - subsonic and almost painful. It was the skip-field generators coming online and Xander grinned. That ghost hum was the heartbeat of the ship - the pulse that meant safe and mobile and home and Xander took a long, wavery breath. *I'm gonna kick your ass when you get up here, Spike. Fucker.*
"And there's the Cap'n," Nia said - choked off her next words and hissed something in her own language.
"What? Oh shit." Xander watched with a sense of sick helplessness as the image of Spike - standing in the Drusilla's main hatchway - was joined by three tall Outsiders.
Part three.
Heeeee.
NaNo progress so far:
|
No *quite* what i'd like it to be, but still...not bad. Actual word count, including the bit i had done *before* November 1st is 22,408. So, doing good. :)
I've decided that if i'm actually going to *publish*, it's probably not a good idea to have this out there for public consumption. Blah. Sorry about that, flist.
And now, on to part two of Space!Spander! Previous parts are here.
The Segue was a bar and restaurant. It was expensive, quiet and not quite dim enough, all of which made Spike nervous. Not a place Spike wanted to make deals in, or settle bounties in - not a place he wanted to be in. At least in his Captain's jacket and the trousers with the pale charcoal stripe down the leg he looked like a legitimate trader and not what he really was. Fenris was tolerant, but individual businesses could still bar him if they thought he'd bring trouble - and lose them money. He didn't fit here and he was pretty sure the Chaddock he was meeting had done it on purpose. Hoping to throw him off or maybe to get him thrown out. The demon stirred inside, anger building, but Spike did his best to ignore it.
He took a deep breath as he walked in, scenting the air. Humans, Outsiders, Chaddock. A vamp or two and maybe a Fairy. Real wood and stone in the construction, real whiskey and gin in the glasses and Spike felt the demon pushing again. Wanting to make a little noise. He saw his contact right off - smiled tightly at the hostess who approached with small sneer and a lifted eyebrow, pale blonde hair done up in a twist and the latest in Outsider jewelry draping her throat.
"Can I help you?" she asked, giving Spike a raking once-over and he drew himself up straight and dug out a hand-rolled smoke - put it between his lips and felt for his lighter. She glared.
"I see my party, love - care to bring me a whiskey?"
"I'll have your server come over," the woman said frostily. "Smoking is allowed only at the bar."
Spike shrugged. "I'll be done in a minute, ducks, no worries." The hostess turned on her heel and stalked away. Spike strode to the table where his contact waited in solitary splendor. A Chaddock, second of the third alien species humanity had been introduced to. Chaddock and Outsiders had had an understanding for about two hundred years before Outsiders had found Earth space, and where Outsiders fought, Chaddock did business. Nobody beat Chaddock for thinking up inventive new weapons, poisons and fiddly little gizmos that could run entire households or map the brain-waves of a slug. The myriad diseases, psychosis and abilities of humanity and demon-kind were a giant puzzle of fascinating problems that Chaddock scientists were unraveling with gusto.
Spike sat down, legs sprawled and the smoke clenched between his teeth. He flicked his lighter open and sparked his cigarette - blew out a plume of smoke over the Chaddock's head. *Better to hang for a sheep than a lamb. Damn Jack, anyway.* Jack - Fat Jack - glared disapprovingly, bulging eyes and neck-less, squat torso radiating irritation
"Do you have no manners?"
"Not really. Do you have any sense?"
Fat Jack drew himself up, bristling - swelling like the toad his race resembled. "I am meeting some colleagues of mine. We are discussing a way-station between Farpoint and Uckt. My egg-set will run it." Fat Jack smoothed the front of his pea-soup-green suit - laced stubby, webbed fingers together and leaned back in his chair. "It is a great opportunity."
"Yeah, so's this - do it right and I won't gut you." Fat Jack smelled faintly but distinctly of stagnant water and dead vegetation - a thick scent that was suddenly spiked with ammonia as he registered Spike's threat and his heart started to beat faster. Spike lifted his chin as the server hurried over, folded length of linen over his arm and an old-fashioned pad and pen in his hands. "Whiskey, neat, double. And whatever Fat Jack here is having." The Chaddock's slitted nostrils flared a bit at the nick-name but he nodded shortly and held up a glass of something palely green. The server darted off with a breathed Yes, sir. Spike smoked, watching Jack calm himself by distraction - fiddling with the napkin and utensils and his glass.
"I should have known better than to think you would be civil. I suppose we should get this over before my real meeting starts."
"Shouldn't have picked such a bloody inappropriate place, Jack, and you know it," Spike muttered, digging into his inner breast pocket. Not enough shadows, not enough noise and this was looking worse and worse. The table of Outsiders near the door suddenly broke into barking, staccato laughter and Jack jumped, marbled-yellow eyes darting to them and away. *Oh bloody hell. Jack, you miserable toad. Knew you'd try something...* Spike pulled a small, wrapped box out of his pocket and then fumbled it, dropping it to the thick carpet and bending down, out of Fat Jack's line of sight. "Nia, find a schematic for this place - tell me there's another way out besides the front door. Dog trouble." Throat movement was minimal with a sub-vocal mic but he wasn't taking any chances.
"On it," Nia said, and Spike sat slowly back up - put the box on the table and slid it forward several inches.
"There's your prize, Fat Jack."
"Ah, yes." Jack reached into his own jacket - froze for a moment when Spike tensed and then continued his movement, going slow. "What, you are nervous? Do you think I would - would 'try something', as you say?"
"I think you'd sell the eggs of your ancestors if the price was right," Spike said, and the dull yellow-brown of Fat Jack's face flushed to an equally dull umber.
"You dare," he hissed, and Spike leaned forward over the table, his hand coming down on the box and his other reaching to pat Fat Jack's jowly cheek. The Chaddock flinched from the smoldering cigarette between Spike's fingers, his breathing becoming a little labored.
"I more than dare. Give me the fee, right now." Spike watched as Jack fumbled in his pocket and then drew out a magnetic card. Electronic bank check - drawn on the Fenris main branch and cashable anywhere on the station - on any station within a skip-length away. *Bloody thing had better have my money on it.*
"I have never been so insulted. This is the last time my House does business with you or any vampire!" Jack wheezed, and Spike plucked the card from his fingers - shoved the box across the table.
"Probably a wise move on your part. Us vamps, we're an untrustworthy lot." Spike shoved the card into the little reader he carried - watched as the fee amount popped up on the display. *At least he didn't try to short me. Bloody toad.*
"I see how your mind operates. You do not even trust the one who employs you!" Jack looked outraged at the presence of the reader, but Spike hadn't gotten to where he was by blindly trusting the other criminals.
"The ones who employee me are usually the worst of the lot," Spike mumbled. He hit the sequence that transferred the money - shoved card and reader into his pocket and dropped the butt of his smoke into Jack's mostly-gone drink. Behind the Chaddock's head he saw their server come out of the bar with a tray and then stop - turn around sharply and disappear. *Wait for it...*
"Hello, Sss'ike." A bony hand - like an articulated steel vise - closed on Spike's shoulder. "Sso 'ood to ssee 'oo."
Spike looked up, into whiteless eyes set aslant in the narrow, dog-like face. At an expanse of gleaming ivory teeth and enough muscle to punch a hole straight through four inches of plex. Or a vamp's heart. "Y'yis. Likewise, I'm sure. But I've got appointments to keep -" He pushed up and the Outsider's hand easily slammed him back down.
"No' any moore, Sss'ike."
Xander stomped down the corridor, opposite hand fisted around his cut one, cursing. Mostly cursing Ferro. His smugness, his greater height - his rightness, because Spike would bitch if the Dru smelled of Eau de Xander-blood. *Stupid vampires and their stupid super-senses and their stupid ideas about humans,* Xander thought. But he was kind of grinning too, because there was nothing in the fucking universe sexier than a possessive Spike who had decided a naked body-check was in order. At least, nothing sexier to Xander. *My possessive vampire.*
Xander bumped the door-switch on the wall with his elbow and stepped into the infirmary. It was about the size of a medium walk-in closet, big enough for two narrow bunks and a wall-locker of supplies, plus a ceiling-mounted diagnostic unit that they'd 'acquired' five jobs ago. Xander stuck his hand under the bell cover of the 'sonic and watched as the inaudible waves of sound vibrated the blood off his hand. A tiny pump suctioned it away, straight into a flash-incinerator. The 'sonic kind of tickled.
He poked around in the cabinet until he found the aerosol can of nu-skin and sprayed a layer over the cut, pressing the edges of the wound together for a few seconds while the chemical dried. A little blood seeped out, making the patch a spotty kind of pink. It was dry, sealed, and the nu-skin would kill any bugs he might have picked up. Good enough. Xander wanted to get the filters done. Fenris had some very...novel places of entertainment and he intended to drag Spike to at least three. Maybe four. This job promised to be particularly lucrative and they all needed a break.
*A little break with my honey and no fucking jobs, no toads, no dogs. No shooting and no fighting and no damn deals. We are job free for a month at least, after this. Skip over to Rennick Station and get the damn enviro computer fixed so we don't wake up to another tropical fucking rain storm. Maybe go planet-side, do some swimming.* Rennick orbited an Earth-like planet whose sun was almost permanently hidden behind dense clouds - a bit of a vampire resort and it had coastline, with a warm, saline sea. Xander missed swimming. The wave-pools at Midway just weren't the same.
And they smelled like wet dog.
Xander tidied up and left the infirmary - stopped in the galley for a soda, snugging the spill-proof lid on tight. One incident with a high-vee turn and an uncapped drink had been plenty, thank you. Ferro still ribbed him about it. He'd been new, then. Well, newer. He wasn't quite so new now.
*Almost fifty years...* Xander touched the tags that hung around his neck - reminder and promise. He took a drink of his soda and strolled down the corridor and around, heading for Ferro's office. It was locked. *Fucker. Is he...taking a break?* Xander grinned to himself. Interrupting Ferro in the middle of a 'break' would be perfect compensation for locking up his filters. Xander started to tap in the master override code. Ferro seemed to forget that Xander was the geek on this ship.
"Xander, get up here!" Ferro, yelling over the com and right after there was -
"Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck!" Nia cursing when she almost never did and Xander ran - slammed his palm down on the lift switch and winced as the cut throbbed.
"What the fuck's going on?"
"Fuckin' toad fuck -" Nia and Ferro both losing what coherency they usually had and Xander squeezed through the too-slow lift doors - punched for the bridge, bouncing on his toes - palm flat to the cool plastic and adrenalin making his heart thump almost painfully in his chest.
*Damnit, damnit - knew this job was gonna be bad! Fucking with things we shouldn't - steal a m'ryi - sure, why not? It's only the closest thing to a fuckin' religious relic any dog's got!* The doors slid open and Xander almost fell out of the lift - did a little hop to save himself and staggered past Spike's chair to Ferro.
"Tell me what the fuck is -"
"Somebody fired - somebody had a gun, gotta get the Cap'n out of that damn bar -!"
"Fucking Fat Jack double-crossed him -!" Nia and Ferro at the same time, Nia's hands flying over her boards, using whatever Fairy magic she had to get whatever she needed for Spike.
*Gun? Jesus - Christ, who the hell is crazy enough -* "Where the hell is Spike? What -"
"I'm on it, Xander -" Nia snapped, then made a small noise of triumph when a schematic flashed up on her board. Station blueprints that nobody was supposed to see.
*Wonder if what she does is real magic or just... Keep meaning to ask and then when I remember to ask I forget to ask, wonder if that's magic too...* Xander felt sweat, cold and crawly, going down his spine and he ruthlessly cut off the inner babble that still tended to swamp him in times of stress. At least he was mostly out of the habit of the babble actually coming out of his mouth.
"God damn dogs," Ferro growled, and Xander looked at the ready-lights coming up on his board and felt his stomach roll. They gleamed, muted red and orange, off Ferro's dark skin - smears of crimson down Ferro's scarred cheeks that was too much like blood. The rest of the bridge was in twilight, lit only by small overhead spots. Xander jerked away from Ferro's chair and fell into his own - auxiliary pilot boards - with a thud.
"Getting it, getting it -" Nia muttered, scrolling faster than a human could see and Xander powered up his station - shoved the soda into a clamp he'd jerry-rigged on the side of the chair. He fumbled the headset off its hook and onto his head, vague noises coming over the link from Spike and then Station buzzing in his other ear and he flinched.
"All ships, be advised we have lock-down proceeding, level three. Repeat, all ships, lock-down on level three, do not attempt to access level three. All personnel report to your ship or station." The advisory cycled again - repeated in Outsider and Chaddock and the pidgin that a lot of the less social Fairy used. Xander acknowledged, short and to the point, not wanting to draw any more attention than he had to. He flicked through a series of views from the ship's cameras: the Drusilla's outer hatch, the foot of the ramp leading up to it and a panning view of the section of dock just beyond the ramp. So far the only activity seemed to be a trio of dock-workers shoulder-deep in an electrical panel and an amorous couple leaning body-to-body against a pillar-like conduit. The alert was station-wide but they were keeping it confined to the Concourse so far. "Nothing's stirring."
"Got it!" Nia crowed. Xander switched the station-feed off for a minute so he could concentrate on Spike. "Cap'n - Two o'clock of the main door is hall, kitchen, storage - access to Maintenance three meters left, access to ventilation two meters and up."
"Right. Just gotta - fuckin' dogs and their fuckin' - Jesus! Almost - there -"
"I'm goin' live in three minutes, Nia," Ferro warned, fingers hovering, and Nia rolled her eyes at him - wide and pale and flaring with an unsettling sort of reddish gleam in the blue-white glow of her boards.
"No!" Xander tore his gaze away from Nia and glared at the other man, shutting his com off altogether so he wouldn't distract Spike. "Ferro - you gotta wait. If you power up, Station'll be all over us - Spike'll never get through!"
"If I don't, whatever ship those fuckin' dogs are off could get up behind us and take out our field array! We'll be fuckin' chaff."
"Just let Nia work her magic, man. Just - wait." Ferro snarled but his hand didn't move and Xander switched back to station-com, hearing questions and answers flying - hearing one Chaddock ship threatening undock and at least three Outsider crew getting damn close to opening fire. Chaddock ran - Outsiders fought. On the whole, Xander preferred the Chaddock way. Fairies - tended to just fade into the woodwork. "Fucking Christ - it's going all to hell out there - who fired?"
"Somebody did - not the Cap'n. Dog, I think -" Nia's gaze went unfocused and Xander switched back to her channel.
"I'm in the pipe, Nia - ventilation. Christ, it's filthy."
Nia pressed the audio bud deeper into one tall, pointed ear, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Five meters, there should be a hatch - type in....zero zero niner fiver tree..."
"Right. Where...?" Spike's voice, slightly flat and slightly muffled, effect of the sub-vocal mic.
"It's a service trunk. Go right - twenty meters...right again...ten...got another hatch?"
"Yeah - it's open - fuckin' hell!"
"What is it?" Xander hissed, and Nia waved her hand.
"It's cold storage for customs perishables - see the exit?"
"Pressure door - got a code?"
"No, a card - let me..." Nia's fingers danced over the keys, codes and access keys a blur on her screen.
"That's got it - I'm out. Fuckin' brilliant, you are. Power up - we are leaving."
"Hundred and seven meters hard left, Cap'n, we'll keep the light on." Nia grinned over at Xander and then Ferro with her sharp, white teeth. "Get those babies live, Tommy-boy,"
"Don't call me Tommy-boy, you fuckin' Fairy," Ferro muttered, but he was grinning too and Xander flopped back in his chair, a hand to his heart as if he could stop the too-fast pounding that was making him a little dizzy.
"You, Nia? Are a fuckin' genius!"
"Belt in, dumbass, we're gonna leave scorch-marks."
"Fuck yes," Xander said - wrestled the tangle of webbing straps up and over his shoulders and around his hips, snapping the tongues into the central buckle with sharp little snicks while Ferro did the same. Nia was never in her chair without the belts.
Xander switched back to the station channel, clearing his throat and taking a quick slurp of soda so his voice wouldn't crack. "Fenris Station, advise we're prepping for immediate undock. Ship personnel emergency. Ten minutes and counting, on my mark." Xander winced at the bark of irritation in Station's reply - the central communications hub was being bombarded with multiple undock advisories on top of the ongoing emergency on level three and they weren't happy. Apparently, Outsiders bringing out guns had caused a general panic and several groups of station personnel had started firing back - as had the crew of another Outsider ship. The original Outsiders were now barricaded in the Segue while Fenris militia tried to enforce a cease-fire to get them out.
Xander keyed up a screenfull of status reports showing system after system on the Drusilla going live, including Ferro's guns. There was a sudden, bone-deep hum - subsonic and almost painful. It was the skip-field generators coming online and Xander grinned. That ghost hum was the heartbeat of the ship - the pulse that meant safe and mobile and home and Xander took a long, wavery breath. *I'm gonna kick your ass when you get up here, Spike. Fucker.*
"And there's the Cap'n," Nia said - choked off her next words and hissed something in her own language.
"What? Oh shit." Xander watched with a sense of sick helplessness as the image of Spike - standing in the Drusilla's main hatchway - was joined by three tall Outsiders.
Part three.
Tags: