Disclaimer: Do we really need to go through the concept of FANfiction?
A/N: Alright! Three reviews! Awesome! Please, keep it up! Here's the next bit :)
Chapter 2
"What is it Cortez? What's so urgent?" Dahlia asked as she jogged onto the Bridge, the Farrell siblings close behind her.
"We just received information that a small block is having a hard time with the Sphere. They're under blockade and being denied water supplies. We're going to go on a rescue mission. But in the meantime, we need to hit a water carrier to get the extra supplies. We've found one that looks like it could be an excellent choice. Lightly guarded, but full to the brim."
Knowing that they should take it when they could get it, the crew nodded and hurried to their posts. Helping people was important, but they needed to be practical. If they could get extra to give to them it would be better then depleting their own supplies, which they would have to do if they couldn't get this shipment instead. The Sphere may have been dealt a serious blow with the destruction of Karzem, but it was still very powerful and controlled most of the water there was in Skyland through the outright dictatorship of some blocks and through crafty business deals with others. Besides, Puerto Angel had only gotten out of a lengthy drought recently and no one ever wanted to go back to that. Just as Dahlia was about to run off to her post Cortez grabbed her arm.
"Dahlia, it's the Oxford Block." He said. Lena and Mahad blinked. Neither of them noticed that the blonde stiffened slightly.
"That's the block where mom was born!" Lena exclaimed. Cortez glanced over at her only briefly before returning his attention to his second right-hand crewman. Dahlia set her jaw stubbornly and shook her head.
"I'll be at my post." She said firmly as she jogged off. Cortez exchanged a glance with Wayan as he passed by to follow her to their position at the St. Nazair's helm. Mahad thought this a little strange but didn't comment on it. In fact, his attention was diverted completely when the dark-skinned pirate shot him a wink and commented
"Hey Mahad, nice coat!" he said cheerfully.
"Thanks!" Mahad exclaimed in excitement before being reminded of the gravity of the current situation by Cortez gruffly clearing his throat as the Captain returned his attention to the two in front of him.
They were the only two people who didn't immediately run to a post. Mahad and Lena were a little lost in situations like this without their ship. While the Hyperion Mark II had been planned out and started, it was still far from completion so they were trying to find a new slot to squeeze into for the meantime. Cortez was still trying to figure out where to put them while trying to appease and/or tip-toe around their zealously protective mother.
Actually, that in particular was starting to frustrate him. When Mila had first been freed she had spent a lot of time outside either resting or spending time with her children. However, after a few weeks, the first mission post-Karzem had come up—a rescue involving the ex-gladiator Kale; his Mosquito had been shot down during a routine trip to a few of the free blocks, by Shinsiki of all people, who had resurfaced with a desire for revenge and more experimentation. When Lena and Mahad had headed for the ship, Mila had thrown a fit. Cortez didn't know what he or any of them had been expecting. This was a woman who had been willing to renounce her powers, work long hours at labor-intensive job and hand over her water every month to an Organization that she had fought so hard against—all so that her children could live safe, care-free lives devoid of danger. Then she had allowed herself to be imprisoned in order to keep them safe—relatively speaking at least. The freak-out had been building up too after she'd heard a few of the details about some of their escapades, namely ones such as the time that her son and Dahlia had nearly blown up the Hyperion to destroy an iceberg for example. Nevertheless, it had been a little bit…well, loud and forceful. Not that much like the Mila he had known and, according to Mahad and Lena, not much like the mother they knew either. It was strange.
Mahad and Lena were getting a little bit irritated as well. They loved their mother dearly and indeed had spent every waking moment with her the first few weeks after her rescue, but since they had joined the rebels, the pair of them had become accustomed to a certain level of independence and freedom, not to mention excitement. They were now used to and even on occasion enjoyed a good dose of danger in their lives.
At first Cortez had tried consulting her on where to put them, starting with Mahad at the Saint Nazaire's guns, but she hadn't exactly gone for that. Then it was Lena at Navigation aided by her powers. In retrospect, maybe that had been a bit of a long shot. However, when she'd seemed like she would protest her son grabbing a Mosquito, it had been the teenager who'd argued and pointed out that he was still the best pilot they had, even if the Hyperion had been destroyed, a fact she was forced to concede. She was starting to get a little better. A little.
The Rebel captain frowned as he regarded the siblings with these thoughts in mind.
"Mahad, report to Wayan and take a Mosquito." He said, "Lena…" she was more difficult to place, "Go sit with Cheung." He said after a moment's hesitation. The young girl glowered at him but for once she didn't argue and went to go sit with her friend. His eyes narrowed. He could understand her frustration, but she had also been getting a little full of herself lately. Perhaps this would be a good thing for her to take more of a back seat for a little while. At least, that was what he hoped.
The Future
The Prisoner's accommodations had changed drastically by the time Oslo went to visit her again. This time instead of a dank, dark cell she was in a private hospital room which was well illuminated and airy. She was still restrained of course, but this time she was buckled in place with straps across her chest and stomach and over her arms with her wrists bandaged lightly, clearly to give the blistered skin a break. Her attire had also changed from a filthy, blood-stained prison uniform to a set of clean hospital pajamas. Next to her stood an IV stand and a steadily beeping machine which monitored her heartrate.
He noticed all this through the glass panel from which her room could be seen from the observation lounge. She was sleeping, again. Then again, she clearly was exhausted…with good reason he supposed. At that point a Doctor walked into the room carrying a chart, closing the door behind him quietly. He was maybe around 40 or so, roughly the same age as the Prisoner and was of a fair height, a couple of inches above average. He had skin with a golden tinge to it and kind black eyes that were almond-shaped. His jet black hair was combed rather then slicked back with a touch of dusty grey in it already. He was clearly from an oriental block. The man bowed respectfully, pushing his rectangular rimmed glasses further up his nose.
"High Commander Oslo," he greeted in a slow, measured tone, clearly more then a little nervous. The Dictator nodded curtly and turned his attention back to the Prisoner.
"What is her condition?" he inquired. The Doctor cleared his throat a little nervously and tugged at the collar of his shirt with agitation before replying
"She is improving, sir." He replied shakily, "But she seems to have been through a great deal. We've given her medication and kept her sedated. She had several torn ligaments and severe bruising. It looks like that insurgent really knocked her around."
Oslo's expression didn't change at hearing the lie, though it was a struggle not to show the smug glee he felt at having succeeded so well in spreading the propaganda.
"Yes, well one can hardly expect any sympathy from animals like those filthy rebels, can one?" he asked, his tone making it clear the answer he expected.
"Of course, sir." The Physician said obediently before adding "She has been a little feverish though sir. She keeps mentioning the same names. Lena, Mahad and—"
"What has she said about the girl?" Oslo demanded suddenly, rounding on the physician in an almost vicious manner and interrupting him.
"N-not much! She just tells Farrell how proud he should be of their 'little girl' and then she sort of whimpered about the daughter's safety."
"I see." Oslo was clearly disappointed. He watched the prisoner's face tighten as she stirred and began to weakly tug at the restraints. He snorted, but couldn't help but be mildly impressed. Then again, her will power had always been formidable to say the least, he'd been very impressed by it the first time he'd encountered the woman…
Well, he was done for the moment. With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out.
The captive, in the meantime, was struggling to regain consciousness. Her drugged sleep had been deep and— at first— peaceful. It had been a welcome change to her cell, where she'd be woken up as soon as she nodded off or left alone in the dark cell for hours on end with the noises from outside and her own fear keeping her awake until she was too exhausted to remain alert. She'd been beaten up, interrogated for hours on end and had seijins try to force their way into her mind on a regular basis. They'd tried just about everything to make her crack. Then again, to be fair, they hadn't done everything. For example, she hadn't been subjected to anything that could have left her with an unwanted pregnancy or an STI. It also seemed that Oslo had left specific instructions that she wasn't to have any permanent scarring, no doubt so that she could be used against her daughter later as a bargaining tool or blackmail.
Hence, the rest had been a wonderful relief…at first.
Except that she still had her child to worry about. Her memories of the past few days were dim and hazy with sleep and drugs and at times were indistinguishable from the strange dreams that had plagued her. Each time she'd started to wake dark shapes and voices she couldn't quite understand in her haze had been quick to arrive. Occasionally something cold was put to her forehead. At other times she was even briefly released from the restraints in order to be shuttled over to the bathroom and back whilst she was still too groggy to register much of anything, much less have the strength to fight. After such a brief excursion (which would no doubt be embarrassing if she weren't so our of it) she'd feel tired again. She was dimly aware of an ache in the back of her hand and the sound of a steady, rather annoying beeping in the background. Her face tightened in a grimace as she stirred. She felt hot and stiff. In the back of her mind she registered the hissing of the automatic door opening and the footsteps of someone approaching.
The prisoner tugged at the restraints that kept her trapped in her hospital bed feverishly until she distinctly heard someone's voice hiss her name in her ear
"…can you understand me?" Was the urgent question "If you can, just nod once." She did as requested.
"Good." Was the murmur "Listen, I'm going to try and get you out of here."
"What is…what's going on?" she breathed "Where am I?...Why can't…I ever…wake up?" she opened her eyes and squinted, but as usual everything was just a bright, fuzzy blur.
"You're in a hospital, recovering. You were pretty badly hurt when they brought you here. They've been keeping you drugged." The voice was male, definitely.
"Why?"
"To help you heal faster, but mainly their hoping you'll tell them where your daughter is."
"Never." She growled through clenched teeth
"I know. Look, I'm going to have to sedate you again, that's why they sent me in here, I can't keep 'calibrating' the heart rate machine for much longer." The young man replied
"Who are you?" she asked with a frown "Why are you helping me?"
"A long time ago, you helped save my mother from an insane, power-hungry psychopath. I'm just returning the favor in helping you save your daughter from one."
"Spencer?" she muttered incredulously
"I have to put you under again now. Hang in there, though." He told her as he drew some medication into a syringe and then injected it into her IV. Within moments the woman's restless tossing quieted down. As the warm darkness enveloped her she could think of only one thing; not a location or a clue that might give her away, but the face of the one she would die or kill to protect.
"Lena…" she breathed as her world went black.
888888
Meanwhile on a block several sectors away, the sounds of blasting and fighting followed a young woman as she raced through the back alleyways of the City Block, desperate to stay one step ahead of her pursuers. It was certainly an ominous night with dark clouds partially obscuring the full moon. She skidded to a halt and gasped when she found herself staring at a brick wall between a tavern and what was probably an old house. It had a small ledge sticking out from where the window was, probably the remains of a window garden. If the teenager hadn't been running for her life, she might have found it refreshing to see that at least one row of houses hadn't been torn down to create a motel, bar, or trashy theatre…yet. However, the gravity and desperation of the situation didn't allow time for more then brief recognition of the pleasant oddity.
The young woman looked in wide-eyed horror at the brick wall, slapping her gloved hands against it.
"What?" she hissed, horrified. A dead end? How could there be a dead end? Damn, she should have been paying more attention! She looked around wildly for a spot to hide, the sounds of people approaching getting louder and closer. At that moment the clouds moved just enough for the silver light of the moon to shine down, illuminating the alleyway a little bit. If anyone had been with her, they would have seen the shadow the girl cast on the wall whip around, a long trench coat flaring out momentarily and a long braid slicing through the air as the words of a group of people became distinguishable.
"I think she went this way!" One voice cried, deep and masculine.
"You'd better be right Poe! This is the third time we've started a fight on a block because of your 'suspicions'. I don't want another reprimand!" a second voice snapped. This one sounded like a woman's—a very annoyed woman at that.
"Chill. No one cares about a stupid place like this anyway. It's not like we started a fight on an important block this time, like Vandergaard or something." The pair of Guardians along with three large people armed with blasters and wearing strange masks and a small squad of Brigs rounded the corner into alley that their quarry had found herself cornered in only to find it deserted.
"I was sure she went this way!" The first Guardian exclaimed in indignant disbelief.
"Great. Now what are we going to tell the High Commander? That we lost her again, or that we didn't even find her this time?"
"We did find her! I'm sure that was her in the bar— its not as though we haven't all been drilled on what she looks like!" Poe retorted angrily
"Our photographs are probably out of date by now. It's not like either of us has actually seen her up close in the last couple of years! Besides, it's night! You know that we can't sense anything without our powers! We should have waited until dawn and then tried to confront her!" the female guardian challenged
"Hey, I'm the experienced one here, you're just the apprentice!" Her 'superior' raged
"Good grief Poe, have you ever wondered why you're still only at 8th rank? Of all the people I could have been assigned to…" muttered the younger one. Their soldiers hadn't moved since their leaders had halted. They were all around strange; their eyes staring blankly off into space, their postures rigid and their tightly-fitted masks shining in the flashes of moonlight that peeked through the clouds. In these brief flickers circuit-board type wiring could be made out on these odd pieces of headgear.
From her perch up on the window of the old house, the one they were looking for held perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. She was too large to stand in the space of the window and instead clung to the ledge, her muscles straining to keep her body as horizontal and pressed to the wall as possible with only the small space of wood to grip. She watched the scene below with wide eyes as a crumbled piece of crumbling brick teetered on the edge of the wooden ledge.
In what seemed like slow motion it finally tipped and fell…right onto the head of one of the masked men. The soldier it hit looked up slowly, his wide blank eyes still staring as though they saw nothing as they fell upon her. She felt her heart plummet and eyes prick as she recognized the face—she'd known this man before he was captured. He'd been a friend. How much more would the Sphere take from her life? She had lost almost everything to them! Her family, her friends, her home! However at that particular moment in time anger and indignation wasn't much of an option as fear and adrenaline controlled her system. Looking down and looking the one-time Gladiator straight in the eye, she shook her head as her eyes and expression pleaded with him desperately.
Don't…she silently begged Please don't tell them Kale…
She knew it was useless. They were little more than robots now; his programming would require that he make a droning, monotone remark to his masters about their 'quarry being sighted' or something else just as lame and mechanical.
However, to her intense relief, amazement and (quite frankly) shock, the Soldier turned his head back towards the front and said nothing. After a few more minutes of bickering the two Guardians stalked off in a huff, their train following them obediently like as many well-programmed Brigs. The masked soldier who had seen her still said nothing. As the group rounded the corner their quarry sighed and sagged against the roof-door in relief. After a moment spent catching her breath, the young woman very carefully slid along the ledge and lowered herself down as far as she could until she was just holding the ledge with her hands before lightly dropping the last 10 feet to the floor and landing in a crouched position. She looked around cautiously before straightening, ducking her head and putting her hands in her pockets, setting off down the streets at a casual but deceptively quick pace. She also slipped on a pair of sunglasses, not caring how other people perceived her wearing shades at night. She had to get out of this place and quickly. When dawn arrived she would almost certainly be detected. Now if only she just could find the ship…
To her horror she wasn't the only one who had taken an interest in the bucket of bolts. Apparently, the black coat of paint hadn't been enough to disguise the Mark II, for when she arrived at the ship lot she found a patrol of brigs inspecting the contraption. Looking over at the horizon she also saw the pale purple glow of dawn approaching. Time was of the essence. There was a speeder propped up against the wall of one of the trashy Casinos that riddled the place.
"Ah, what the heck." She muttered to herself as she quietly slipped on the attached helmet, "What's one more charge of theft next to a bounty on your head? Besides, they really should know better at places like these." She swung her leg over it, settled into the seat and revved the engine. As she sped it off the edge of the block she nearly knocked the sign reading Puerto Angel, sending it spinning around chaotically on its stand.
The wind whipped loose strands of hair into her face and yanked at her coat and braid, but she ignored the annoying consequences of the necessary speed as she weaved and bobbed through a debris field to loose anyone who might be following her. The faster she got out of Sphere-controlled skies, the better.
After about a quarter of an hour she felt her hand tingle and looked down at the square of skin that could be seen on the back of her hand through her glove. It was starting to glitter an eerie electric blue. Almost as if on cue a shimmer of the same shade of blue that had appeared on her skin flashed across the corner of her eye. She whipped her head around to glare at the bird of blue flame flying beside her.
What a nice nap. Anything interesting happen tonight? Ooh! A voice in the back of her head crooned as the bird-shaped thing looked over its shoulder and then back at her I guess it did! Why didn't you say so?
The sound of engines made the young seijinn glance behind. Two T32's. Great. Just great.
"Go away!" She hissed at the bird
Honestly, I know it's early, but there is such a thing as 'manners', you know.
"I really don't have time for this!" The Rebel grumbled. Leaning to the side she banked the speeder hard to the left until she was facing the pair of ships. Releasing the handles of the vehicle, she raised her hands in front of her as though holding a giant beach-ball and a created a large sphere of energy in the space between them, concentrating hard on her task and meticulous in her control.
"Unregistered adult sejinn—proceed to exterminate." The Metallic voice of a Combat brig echoed through the microphone transmitter
What? Come on, let me out! Let ME have a go at them!
"At least I'm finally an adult to you people!" Lena muttered, ignoring the spectre hovering beside her as she moved her hands so that they were palm-up and split the giant energy ball into two, one in each hand. With a grunt of effort she hurled them both at the ships. Both blasts hit their mark with perfect accuracy and the patrollers started to fall, their sides on fire where the attacks had made direct hits.
I could have done it too! You neverlet me have any fun anymore! The voice whined.
"Yeah, and there's a good reason for that." the teenager muttered.
Without sticking around to see the outcome, the sejinn hauled the speeder around again and sped off, entering another debris field. She finally yanked the poor speeder to a stop when she reached a small block in the middle of the debris at a small block with only enough land on it to house a single building: an old lighthouse. The rock looked like it had a chunk missing out of it with a crumbling set of stairs that began at the edge of the block and led up to an old, somewhat broken-down lighthouse. She parked it precariously on the crumbling step that was literally hanging in mid-air as there wasn't any ground beneath it. She leapt off the bike and sprinted up to the door, yanking it open and slamming it shut.
"Vector!" She yelled, "VECTOR!"
"What is it?" A very old man said from the top of the stairs "Ah,Lena, you're back!" He exclaimed when he hobbled over stiffly to the rail and saw her "Did you get what I asked for?"
"No!" the young woman said as she jogged up the winding metal stairs. A sight at something out the window made her skid to a halt and look out. Her silver-blue eyes narrowed and then widened at what she saw: patrollers slowly, carefully, but steadily navigating the treacherous debris field. The seijin whipped her head around, black braid slicing through the air as she yelled
"But believe me, we have bigger problems!"
Review please...
