Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue belongs to Rooster Teeth, not me. I make no profit from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter Ten
Sister's eyelids drooped as she slumped in the pilot's chair of the albatross.
"Kaikaina." Sven said
"Mm?" She forced her eyelids open.
"I can fly. You rest." He said kindly.
"Do you even know how to fly a ship this size?" the skepticism dripped from Sister's voice.
"I was flying it before you woke up and took the controls back, remember? Sven smirked at her.
"Pfft, whatever." Sister tried to remember how long it had actually been since they had left the planet that she was sure would give her nightmares for a while. She remembered flying them away from the planet and then … waking up, taking over from Sven awhile ago.
"Why would my plan have been to steal a ship if I couldn't fly it?" Sven asked, trying to reassure the semi-delirious girl. "You should clean up, rest, put on something warmer."
"When are you going to give me a direction to go?" Sister ignored him.
"We cannot risk being followed." Sven shrugged apologetically. "It will take a while to be sure."
"Ugh, fine." Sister got up and headed for the bunk room, and Sven took the helm. Sister peeled off her bloody clothes, tossing them in the trash rather than the laundry. She hopped into the shower for just long enough to wet the dirt and blood, then wiped it away with a towel and threw that in the trash too. Then she shimmied into a tank top, a sweater, yoga pants and some fuzzy socks. She did all this one handed, as her arm ached if she moved it much. She then returned to the front of the ship.
"You're back so soon."
"I'll just doze in the co-pilot's seat and keep an eye on you. I don't want you sneaking up on me anywhere. I mean, don't get me wrong I normally love surprises, but I've had enough bad ones lately to last a long time. I'm beginning to understand why my brother always nagged at me to be more cautious."
"It is good not to trust easily," Sven said. "You stay safer that way."
"Yeah, I'm starting to get that. So you don't trust me either?" Sister asked. Sven didn't answer. "Why let me come with you if you can't trust me?"
"Well, it is extremely unlikely that you are some child agent trained to infiltrate our forces. We know about most of our enemy's projects anyway. And if you are with them, then it is best we keep our enemies close, as the saying goes."
"Is that all? Sister pressed.
"It is my fault you were injured," Sven said, but he didn't look particularly sorry. More like he was simply stating a fact.
"Not really," Sister replied. "You told me to go. I'm just not good at doing what I'm told."
"You're lucky, you know. An inch further in and the joint could have shattered. It could have been permanently damaged. As it is, a flesh wound won't be so hard to recover from. Though it would be easier if we could get to an actual hospital. They have better equipment to heal the muscles."
"Then why bring me? You could have left me there."
"Instinct," Sven said simply. Sister smiled.
"I get that. Sometimes you just know what's right, like when I saw this ship. I fell in love. I said to myself, 'That's my ship,' and then I walked right up to Brennan and convinced him to give me a ride."
Sven watched Sister's face for a moment, noting the mixed emotions she was displaying. "Was he the one who sold you to the slavers?"
"It wasn't on purpose. He owed them money. We never would have set down on that planet at all, but we got chased by the Covenant," Sister sighed.
"Wait, what? You are … not joking?"
"Nope. We bumped into them in a meteor field while Brennan was teaching me to fly." Sister related the whole story and Sven just stared in amazement for a few moments.
"Well … lucky for me I guess," he finally said.
Sister looked up from picking at the edges of her bandage and smiled. "Yeah, I guess so."
After that they stared at the stars going by in silence until Sister dozed off. She slept quite well in the co-pilot's seat. After all, Brennan had them ordered custom at some point because, "If you're the only one flying, you're gonna be there a while. Might as well get comfy." Eventually, she shifted and woke herself up with a cry of pain when she leaned against her wounded shoulder.
She whined and stretched her legs. "Sven?" she called out as she got up and noted his empty chair and the autopilot settings. She stretched a bit more and then made her way over to the med kit that was still laying out.
"Hmm...painkillers, painkillers, painkillers," she muttered and dug through the bag. Finally she pulled out a syringe labeled morphine. "Hell yeah!" She was about to inject herself when she smelled coffee, and a foot literally kicked the syringe out of her hand.
"What the fuck?"
"You were about to kill yourself."
"Nooo, I was about to kill the pain."
"No, seriously, a dose of morphine that large would knock out a man twice your size. You probably would have died if you used the whole thing."
"Oh. But you gave me a bunch before."
"No, what I gave you wasn't nearly so strong. You wouldn't have been able to fly otherwise. I should not have let you fly anyway." He handed her the coffee and she breathed deeply as she brought it to her lips. Sven brought out a different injection and gave that to her while she drank the coffee. He then retrieved the morphine from the floor and put it away.
"Here," he said and handed her the med kit's manual. "Read this before you accidentally almost kill yourself again."
"'Kay."
"Are you particularly accident prone?"
"Uh, I guess sort of. Mostly I just knock stuff over because I move too fast and stuff like that. Though I suppose I could count those 3 pregnancies as accidental.… "
Sven raised his eyebrows.
"What? A girl's got needs, man!"
"How old are you?"
"Fo – sixteen," She corrected herself.
"And this brother of yours?"
"He's twenty."
"And where are your parents?"
"Don't know. Never met dad, and Mom left to join the circus. She's the fat lady and the bearded lady – super talented."
"Who is your guardian if your brother was drafted?"
"They put me in this foster family on the Moon. They were cool I guess, but I want to be with my brother."
"That is … so illegal."
"Yeah, that's kinda what I thought, and I'm really worried about him because of this fake draft deal." Sister plopped back down in her chair and spun in it. Her meds were kicking in. "Which is why I felt the need to come out here and find him. And if you're trying to uncover nef – nefarious plots," Sister tripped over her words. "You gave me more this time didn't you?" She grinned at Sven. He nodded. "Anywho, it just makes sense for me to help you uncover those plots if you'll help uncover mine, right?"
"Kaikaina, may I make a suggestion?"
"Shoot."
"You drop me off at my ship and go back to your foster family, and I will contact you if I find anything about your brother."
"What? You still don't trust me? I let you shoot me full of drugs! You could have poisoned my coffee! I took a fucking bullet for you! I'm going to find my brother with or without you!"
"I have no doubt, but . … "
"But what? You don't want a kid on your ship? Or a slut? Mr. Chivalrous! Well, fuck you!"
Sven didn't react to her outburst. "Others on my ship with think you are a spy. If you are, they'll space you, Kaikaina."
"What like, out the airlock, like in a movie?" Sister's expression changed from angry to curious.
"Yes," Sven said simply.
"Well then I guess it's a good thing you're gonna look out for me."
"I do not understand you Kaikaina. Do you want me to look out for you or not?"
"Isn't it obvious Sven? We're gonna look out for each other."
"Why? I thought you were angry with me."
"Because I fucking like you, that's why. Now fly my fucking ship." Sister spun her chair again and almost fell out of it.
"I gave you too much painkiller."
"Yep."
%
Over the next couple of days Sister attempted to pry info from Sven about himself, but got nothing. Sven on the other hand, learned that Sister did not function well without a breakfast that included coffee, had been a cheerleader, liked surfing, that her favorite color was yellow, and the stories behind her tattoos. She made him help her stretch in the mornings, saying that injury was no excuse to let oneself go; she was very proud of her flexibility. Then she laughed and told Sven how Grif had been letting himself go for his whole life.
"I swear half the reason I'm worried about him is that if I'm not around he'll probably eat nothing but Oreos and Vodka. He really does better with someone to take care of."
"I wonder why the UNSC wanted him in particular." Sven stared at nothing, deep in thought.
"They letter said it was random lottery," Sister shrugged.
"They've broken two laws already, why not lie about it being random?" Sven looked down to where Sister was stretched in a full split.
"Hmm … maybe, but Grif's not really special. Average all around, you know? Except with vehicles, like me – I mean we're the same, not that I'm a vehicle. Ha!"
They lapsed into silence again. Sister liked that the conversation and the silence both felt comfortable with Sven, not forced or awkward. They took turns flying and dozing in their chairs, and Sister felt better than she ever had around Brennan. It had always been tense with him. When would he next be drunk and hallucinating? How safe had she ever been with a secretive, unstable, mildly criminal, possible sociopath three times her age?
"How old are you?" She asked Sven once when she'd been thinking on these things.
"Too old for you," He replied simply.
"That's not an answer. Besides, I'm legal," She insisted.
"Liar," He said in that same casual tone. She huffed ans tuck her tongue out at him, and their silence resumed. Out of the corner of her eye Sister thought she saw Sven trying not to smile.
%
Brennan tapped his fingers nervously on his leg as he waited outside the police station. It had taken him two days to decide that his ship had, in fact, been stolen. When he had woken from another night of guilt ridden drinking and wasn't in or near the albatross he had been confused, but he'd genuinely thought he had passed out somewhere on the way back to his ship. He spent the entire day searching up and down the rows of ships to no avail.
At that point he started to assume that the slavers had changed their minds and come back to take everything he had left, and he spent another day thinking they were just teasing him before they killed him. But that wasn't the Suit's style. He was quick and clean with his business. He would have killed Brennan and disappeared his body immediately if he meant to take his ship. So, that left good old honest theft, which he could report and get insurance money for. However, as he discovered when he went to the police station, there were bigger fish afoot.
The local media persons were bombarding the police with questions about what was supposedly an Insurrection cell and the para-military group that had apparently shot a civilian while trying to take them down.
Eventually Brennan was able to get through, and a frustrated looking desk clerk practically shouted at him to, "Just fill out this form and we'll get back to you," as she handed him a data pad.
"Hey, when will you get back to me? This is my livelihood we're talking about."
"Well, it's hard to say, considering we've just had the two biggest cases in years hit our desks at the same time. You saw the media out there. The UNSC is being close mouthed about their involvement, and meanwhile we've got to try and track down the civilian that was shot ourselves.
"Not to mention the most notorious slaver operation in the area all just turned up dead in their own hideout. A hideout that we've been unable to locate for years until an anonymous tip came in a few days ago."
"Dead?!"
The woman did a double take at the look on Brennan's face. "That's a pretty strong reaction, Mr. … " She looked down at the form he had handed her, "Wiley. Got something you want to share?"
"No, I uh, I owed that guy money, from a poker game years back. It was before I knew who he was, obviously. I don't associate with those types as a rule, of course. I guess I don't owe him anymore." He shrugged and grinned. The woman looked at him skeptically, and he stopped grinning. "Was anyone rescued from them?" He asked hopefully.
"No, the place was empty except for bodies. It's all in the papers man; don't you read?"
"Well, I might if I had any money to buy a paper with, but my means of making an honest living has been stolen!"
"Bit of advice Wiley – next time take a shower before you try to be taken seriously. Now get out of here. You'll be contacted about your ship later."
Brennan just shook his head and grumbled as he left. He turned to go to the bar when he exited the station, and then realized he had no money. As long as he expected the police to take, he was going to have to find a new job. …
%
On a battleship hundreds of miles away, a young communications officer sat studying the screen in front of her intently.
"Hey Rick, sir, we have a single vessel inbound – scans show its UNSC, an Albatross class ship."
"What the hell?" a dark eyed man who looked a bit too young to be a battleship's captain looked up from a report he'd been reading. "It's alone? What's it doing way out here?"
"Hmm … looks like it's decommissioned. It's registered as a civilian cargo ship, reported stolen yesterday actually." The dark skinned woman's soft green eyes flitted back and forth as she read the results of the scan she had started.
"Stolen from where?" Rick demanded.
"I'm checking now. Uh … they're hailing us on the secure channel sir." The woman looked up at him, surprised.
"A stolen albatross is hailing us on a secure channel? Kandyse, that's Sven. It has to be. Put him through."
"Yes, sir," She opened the channel to the albatross.
"This is Gold One, reporting in, over," came the familiar voice over the radio.
"Sven, you bastard, we thought you were dead!" Rick practically shouted into the speaker and Kandyse rolled her eyes at his exuberance.
"You did not; though I apologize for keeping you waiting, my friend. Things were touch and go there for awhile," Sven said casually.
Rick was having none of his nonchalance. "We've been following the news feeds, Sven. How badly did it go?"
"I admit it is a mark on my spotless record … " Sven paused, and Rick pinched his nose between his fingers and sighed. "But I got what I went in for," Sven continued.
"Yes!" Rick pumped his fist in the air in triumph before returning to the radio. "Good to hear it Sven. We're opening up the hangar bay for you now. I'll see you in a minute."
"Right, meet me in the med bay actually. Over and out." The connection cut out.
"Wait, Sven – why does he always do that?" Rick grumbled.
"Do you think he's hurt? He didn't sound hurt," the communications officer asked.
"I guess we'll know soon enough. I'm heading down there. Kandyse you have the bridge."
"Yes sir," the young woman nodded, then sighed and stared at the almost empty bridge. They were a woefully undermanned ship.
Sven looked over to the co-pilot's seat where Sister was curled up sleeping. Three days. It had taken them three days to get back to his base of operations. A med kit could only do so much, and Sister was getting weak. He was afraid her wound was infected. He'd had to go out of the way just to make absolutely sure no one – not cops, UNSC, or Freelancers, followed them. Sister's eyes opened ever so slightly as he ended the radio call with Rick and brought the ship in for a gentle landing in the hangar.
"Whasgoinon? Where are we?" she mumbled sleepily.
"We're home," Sven said as he began shutting the ship down. "Welcome to the Staff of Charon."