FIVE rewound the data stream and played it again, watching for the moment ONE's transmission abruptly vanished. She paused it, staring at the loss. Then she rewound and watched it again. She sat alone on the command deck, tear tracks reflecting the light of the Raza's communications monitor. The others had left to deal with their grief in other ways. The Android stood behind her on a power saver mode; recalibrating the thousands of systems still underperforming from the encounter with the Galactic Authority. The lights had cycled low at FIVE's inaction. She lay against the console deck replaying the moment they had lost ONE's transmission. One moment it was there, then too soon to trace, it was gone. FOUR had left for the weapons room without a word. THREE had used language that had colored FIVE's face in shock before heading down to a cargo bay to break something. TWO had just stood there staring out at the lights of space, completely silent. FIVE had desperately tried to get the transmission back; amped the connection until they blew a fuse, decrypted all the transmission feeds within the geolocation the transfer transit transmission had been aimed at… Finally TWO had turned and hugged FIVE close. "It's not your fault. We'll win the next one."
FIVE wanted to protest. The odds of another public appearance after an attempt on Derrick's life… The odds that they would catch the transmission… The odds that the next PR event would come before they had turned ONE into Derrick Moss… but she kept her mouth shut, and TWO silently walked off the bridge. This had been their chance, FIVE felt it in her chest. She brushed the salt from her cheek and pecked at the console. Maybe if she could just understand why she had lost the transmission, maybe that would help.
FIVE sat up. Choosing an IP address and credential string based on proximity to ONE's lost transmission, she punched in a connection. The console on the wall resolved to a harassed looking woman juggling paper readouts. FIVE watched her drop below the desk to retrieve a fly away. As she climbed back into her seat she froze, staring owlishly at FIVE. "Um," she mumbled pecking at the readouts on the monitor confused to be staring at a blue haired youth. "This is a secure line. How did you…"
"Do you know Derrick Moss?" FIVE blurted. The woman squinted at her. "The missing CEO?" she asked, "Is this some kind of prank…" FIVE cut the connection. "Not that one," FIVE conversed with herself. She marked the transmission and chose another.
VVVV
A hired gun PR rep was pitching just the right blend of bright side, by your side all the way platitudes dictated by crisis response custom. "… it's important for us to stand united. Ameritas-Gorm does not condone this type of terrorism. We won't let this influence the partnership we are striving to establish and sincerely offer our support in addressing the situation."
Jacob nodded. He was only half listening. Accepting the PR posturing of Intercolactic's allies and rivals was a formality he had learned to endure. This wasn't his first rodeo and the heavily structured art form did little to distract him from dwelling on the physical act of Catherine crushing the breath from his son. Sensing that he needed space, she had gone home to change. The blackened bio matter, a byproduct of a premature Transfer Transit termination had clung like soot to her white designer suite. Jacob rubbed his palm against his thigh. It was likely all in his head, but he couldn't get beyond the feeling of the dust clinging to the crevices of his fingers. He had to remind himself that Derrick was not dead, but there was a difference between knowing something and feeling it. And he felt terrified and alone. He ended the call with a sense of relief. He sagged back into his chair, a rare occasion in which he felt his advanced age.
Mac, his synthetic handed him a bottle of water. "Sir, there's a transmission from the Meikke Combine trying to connect. Shall I reroute them?"
Jacob took a deep drink and recapped the bottle. "No," he directed. "It's better for me to keep busy." He dreaded facing his empty penthouse and the seven hours of dead air until the work day could evolve something new to distract him again. He needed to speak to Derrick, hear his voice and start actually believing that his son was indeed ok, but Dr Hemb wasn't taking calls at the moment. Jacob ran his fingers through the silver of his mane. He needed to find a way to get Derrick free butt he was to in too deep to see any light. He nodded the go ahead to Mac. Better to be numb, an automatron, than without hope, Jacob reasoned.
The screen coalesced into a teen with curls the blue of tropical plumage. She blinked tiredly at him a few moments before her eyes rounded with amazement. "Jacob Moss," she gasped. 'You're Jacob Moss!"
Jacob's puzzled expression held a hint of amusement. "Yes, I believe I am. Who were you expecting?"
She shook her head excitedly, "Um, I dunno. But this is so great! I need to talk to ONE," She hesitated as if realizing what she just said wouldn't make sense. "I mean, I need to talk to…" it took her an extra second to recall the name she was looking for, "Derrick."
Jacob frowned, "That won't be possible." FIVE watched his body language shift from curios to guarded, "Do you realize how much trouble you could be in using a private corporate line to invade people's lives?"
Realizing she had miss stepped FIVE jumped in her seat, throwing her arm out as if to stop him. "Wait, no. I…" a brilliant smile lit up her face. "I can't believe this worked!" A sound off screen caught her attention.
"This isn't funny, I'm in no mood for games, girl. Where are your parents?" Jacob said climbing to his feet.
A dark beauty stepped into view. Her wide stance telegraphed an impression of command and control. Her eyes were all business beneath the lush sweep of her lashes. The guns strapped to her thighs whispered of deadly competence. They considered each other, like opponents in a ring. Jacob broke the standoff, "I don't think I've had the pleasure."
"Pray you never will," TWO responded. She watched him swallow reflexively. "You are in breach of a good faith clause in contract." TWO accused him.
Jacob slowly released a breath. He felt at a disadvantage, like he had stumbled onto something dangerous because he didn't understand it. The woman was formidable enough to have him acting like a junior exec. High level this, he counselled himself. "We do quite a bit of business and I'm not familiar with the contract you are referencing. Could you be more specific?" Jacob preferred to do business honestly and had built his success by being genuine when possible.
TWO recognized the rare quality, a corporate executive that had made the climb without losing the ability to admit when they didn't know something. She stepped forward, "I'll spare you my complaints on your organization's negotiating practices. I lent Catherine Moss one of my crew members so she could prove Derrick Moss was still alive. But evidence of your inability to keep him in good health is trending on galactic news outlets." Two crossed her arms, "I expect him returned home immediately."
She was talking about Derrick. For a moment Jacob failed to process the idea that Derrick might have a home other than Intercolactic. The teenager was fairly beaming with pride and affection. Evidence that this commander looked out for her own and she counted his son among them. An idea started to take form. He sat down and looked at the woman with new intent. "Catherine mentioned the Raza, I'm familiar with the reputation. How do you rationalize that to be safe?" he slipped naturally into the role of overprotective parent.
He had never trusted Derrick to make his own choices. Catherine was the result of Jacob believing she had the competitive steel and business acumen to fill a lack he thought Derrick was limited by. Ironically, it was Jacob's lack that had been the problem. His inability to let Derrick make his own decisions, learn from his own mistakes. On the surface, the Raza looked like a mistake. It made Jacob wonder if this was a test of fate; the real opportunity to regain his son by letting him make a choice Jacob didn't understand. If he genuinely loved his son above anything else, the answer might be to let him go.
He shook his head, he hadn't heard TWO's answer. "I've failed him. His family failed him," Jacob muttered. "How do you expect to do any better?" Jacob squinted at the commander. She wasn't Catherine, that was a good start. His gut said to trust her. He turned to consult his data pad. "I'm sending you the routing number to the Purveyor. I don't trust Dr Hemb. He's a corrosive influence and he isn't responding to attempts to contact him. Will you have Derrick call me once you have him?"
TWO killed the connection before she could lay into the old man for allowing any of this to happen. It was obvious the father loved his son, but that didn't excuse his role in taking something of hers. She scrambled the Raza; they had a solid lead. Fate owed them a win this time and TWO had every intention of collecting.
VVVV
Breeching the Purveyor had been straightforward. The had used brute force to punch their own entrance, ensuring the Raza would be the only space worthy vessel once they had detached. The had left FIVE and the Android on board to watch the horizons for party crashers. After dispatching the 2 bot welcoming committee they had split to hit the bridge, the med bay, and the armory detected off the crew's quarters.
THREE flanked the doorway into the Purveyor's medical bay, pushing his shoulder blades into the metal casing. He checked the charge on Lucille and Ricky, a matched pair of sleek heat pulse hand guns. Crossing the guns to his chest, THREE took a deep breath and cleared his head. With a nod, he spun around the jamb and swept the room. Each hand worked independently to target and dismiss the lights and movement of the medical display units quickly zeroing in on the form of a synth standing beside the rounded canopy of some type of enclosed bed. "Great, another robot," he muttered to himself. Without hesitation he emptied both clips into it's chest. The figure dropped to the floor panel with a heavy clang. A ribbon of smoke dancing from it's slumped form.
"Not bad," THREE smiled complimenting himself. Swiveling to track every corner, he backed up to the container bed. He holstered Ricky and tugged at the lid. It opened with a hiss, the penetrating blue interior making ONE's still form look like it was made of ice. "C'mon Princess, wakey wakey!" THREE crooned. When ONE didn't respond THREE gave the room a final sweep before turning to shake ONE's bare shoulder. "This may be a rescue, but I ain't going to carry your ass." ONE still didn't respond and THREE frowned at the locked tense of the muscle beneath his grip. THREE reached over to peel back ONE's eyelid. The black of the pupil was blown wide and completely unresponsive to the light. THREE pulled back and frowned at the cording in ONE's neck and the rigid set of his jaw. There was nothing peaceful about how ONE was laid out. "Damn it, you don't do anything easy." THREE muttered. THREE cursed and hopped up onto the bed
The goose flesh at the base of THREE's skull prickled, warning him to drop as a synthetic arm buried itself into the transfer transit unit's lid. THREE threw his arm up against the sparks gushing from the puncture and mule kicked the synthe's joint bending the mobility gears. Bringing Lucille up THREE drained the clip point blank into the robot's optical port. Steel dug into THREE's shoulder and jerked him backward off the table and into an adjacent wall. The robot detached it's damaged limb like a lizard tail and lunged at THREE.
THREE rolled as a mech filled boot pounded a dent into the floor grating. Ducking a lethal swing THREE jack rabbited back from the bot's onslaught. Dodging, weaving, until a jackhammer blow rattled the cage around his heart. The gyros on the room seemed to swing and THREE plowed shoulder first into a bulkhead of surgical tools. A manacle wrapped around his ankle and jerked his body clear of the avalanche of sharpened stainless steel.
The synth's fingers dug around THREE's windpipe. It leaned forward, it's toothy leer dripping some type of milky lubricant across THREE's lips. THREE thrashed. As the black of space threatened to swallow his vision, THREE yanked a scalpel embedded in his calf and slammed it home in the memory port on the robot's neck. The effect was nuclear. Electricity arced beneath it's skin, illuminating it's internal support structures and blowing fuses like line charges in a controlled demolition. THREE scrambled clear as the robot seized. "Ever heard of personal space?" he growled scrubbing his jacket sleeve across his mouth to remove the bitter tasting liquid. He rummaged through some drawers until he found bandages and liberally applied butterflies across any cut longer than his fingernail. The synth had done a number on the electronics of the room. Lights flickered, readouts wailed, and sparks dripped like water onto the floor. An acrid smell hinted at unseen damage burning behind the paneling. Time to move.
THREE limped back to the damaged husk of the transfer transit bed. ONE hadn't moved. "Some prize," THREE muttered. He hooked ONE's arm to pull him into a fireman's carry.
ONE exploded at the contact. With desperate speed he pulled THREE's gun and swung THREE off kilter onto the cracked plastic sheeting of the bed. THREE's temp fell sub zero at the look in ONE's eyes. He looked feral beneath the spasms of the med bay's shorting lights. Void of emotion. His eyes eerily reflecting the light like something unholy. THREE got a fist on the pistol's barrel, quivering with the effort to slow the muzzle from kissing the underside of his jaw. The heat of Lucille's muzzle burning a mark over the flutter of his own pulse. "ONE!" THREE yelled past his clenched jaw. "It's me." Beneath his grip, THREE felt the flex of ONE's finger against the trigger. "It's THREE!" THREE yelled expecting to get blown away with that breath.
But the moment froze, ONE froze. Something flickered, ONE blinked and THREE watched as fate seemed to weigh his worth. Damn it, he should have worn underwear without holes.
With a sharp exhale, ONE jerked back. THREE followed struggling to keep his dual ownership of the gun. He hung on, completely unprepared as Lucille's deadly attention was pulled back to strike a killing blow to a new target. Three stumbled over his own feet to follow the weapon as it jumped from his throat to ONE's. There was no hesitation, no opposing force to slow the muzzle as it nuzzled beneath ONE's chin. THREE fell to his knees, his weight spinning ONE as the gun discharged. They fell in a heap, THREE lay stunned, his breath knocked from him. ONE wasn't moving beside him. THREE jerked on the gun and it came away from ONE's limp grip. "No," THREE begged. The sight of red beading against ONE's jaw line shot him into action.
THREE straddled ONE's chest and twisted his neck to get a look at the damage. A close call, the graze ran a cauterized groove just past his artery up into the hair line of the nape of his neck. THREE could feel ONE's chest rise and fall beneath him. It gave THREE the courage to let go when ONE slapped THREE's hand from his face. "Get off!" ONE ordered in a voice rough from disuse. THREE got to his feet and watched ONE attempt elevation before collapsing back to his knees. THREE identified first aid supplies and dumped the whole bin out over ONE's head. Too busy dealing with a bout of vertigo, ONE didn't react. Shrugging out of his jacket, THREE manhandled ONE into it, pretending not to notice ONE's trembling. Grabbing the lapel, THREE hauled ONE to his feet and slammed him back against a wall. "Don't ever try that again!" THREE threatened. He thumped him again for emphasis before grabbing a roll of gauze to bandage the neck wound. ONE put up with the attention without comment. Finally satisfied, THREE stepped back and tossed a set of medical scrubs at ONE. "Let's go." THREE waited unwilling to trust ONE to follow directions on his own.
VVVV
TWO broke her team's radio silence, "Meet me in the main cabin on level B. I have Dr. Hemb." A synthetic form lay dispatched in the corner of the room. Dr Hemb lounged on a bench, pinned in place by TWO's gun. A large bed held the center of the room. TWO averted her curiosity from the body cuffed to the headboard. She didn't trust the DR enough to divide her attention. THREE and FOUR would arrive soon enough.
Dr Hemb casually studied her. With a self deprecating chuckle, he purred, "You are something special." He reached out to trace her lines in the air, "I feel like a John Hughs lead who just noticed the beauty next door." His eyes tracked to the synth she had sidelined in three brutal moves. She couldn't be human, but he wasn't sure she realized it. Escape was the last thing on his mind, he itched to dig elbows deep into the mystery standing before him. Physically, he was no match so he began mapping alternative approaches.
Katana drawn, FOUR arrived first. His eyes flicked across the scene around TWO quickly taking the situation in. TWO nodded to the bed and stepped to the far wall to improve her sight line coverage of the door, Dr Hemb, and the bed. The heavily blindfolded face of the man tied to the bed rolled to track FOUR's silent approach. Intuition warned FOUR that there was something familiar about the stranger. With a flick of his blade, the blindfold fell away leaving FOUR face to face with Derrick Moss.
Derrick flinched away from the sudden light. "FOUR?" Derrick croaked. The voice was all wrong, wreaked from overuse. FOUR stepped back as Derrick strained against his restraints. "What's wrong?" he asked with alarm, catching FOUR's hesitance. Derrick squinted across the room taking in TWO and Dr Hemb. TWO felt uncomfortable meeting his pale eyes. She only recognized him from the video feed footage. "What is it?" Derrick demanded turning back to FOUR. FOUR ignored the questions and studied the strange abrasions running tracks down Derrick's sides; the crimson flecks distressing the cuffs on Derrick's wrists. FOUR raised a brow in silent question to TWO.
THREE strode into the room interrupting the nonverbal conversation. He pulled Bubba off his back and dropped the muzzle to the floor plate to lean against, his calf was killing him and he tried not to think about the possibility that a piece of the scalpel had stayed lodged in his muscle. "Well, ain't this a cozy nest. Did I interrupt something?" He stared blankly at Derrick, unable to place where he had seen the guy before. He checked his six and spun in panic the moment it took to relocate ONE standing back in the shadow of the entrance. The guy was acting seriously spooky, THREE thought to himself.
ONE stepped silently from the doorway. Dressed in THREE's leather jacket with a pair of pale surgical scrub pants slung low on his hip, ONE looked like a refugee. He didn't acknowledge any from the Raza, his attention fixated on the body on the bed. TWO frowned, ONE moved like a ghost ship, silent intention leaking emotional radiation in it's wake. He hadn't said a word, that alone set off alarms. But it was him, she felt the same unexplainable draw she had tried to deny since the moment they had woken without names.
Derrick stared at ONE in horror. "What is this?" he forced out from bloodless lips. He shifted back as far as the restraints would allow. This couldn't be real. "Wake up, wake up, wake up," Derrick panted thumping his head back against the top beam of the headboard. THREE sent TWO a worried look as ONE stepped up beside him. "Some nightmares are real," ONE answered. The moment held it's breath. "Who are you?" Derrick asked. The tension in the air made each word drop harshly. Lightning quick, ONE whipped THREE's pistol from his hip, aimed and *CRACK*…
FOUR recoiled as the figure on the bed burst into a shower of black.
THREE jumped to regain his gun before ONE could do more. Twisting Lucille free, THREE slammed a right hook into ONE's jaw. ONE stumbled but otherwise didn't react. Blood pinked the bandaging on his neck. "MY GUNS!" THREE spit. He grabbed ONE by the lapel and shook him. "Keep your hands off MY GUNS!" He shoved ONE away and backed a safe distance to stand beside TWO; too disturbed to believe ONE was done with this self-destructive streak he had picked up.
Dr Hemb collapsed in laughter. Palming his face, his pink tongue darted out to sample the tears of his delight. "That's one I never even imagined," he cheered. He stood and stepped toward ONE, arms held wide. FOUR intervened. Dr Hemb hesitated, catching his reflection in FOUR's blade. Raising his hands in surrender Dr Hemb to retook his seat. "Encore?" he asked casting a feverish look between the reunited members of the Raza.
Did all of that work for everyone? Or did it get too confusing?