Session 18

The practice room blurred in the whip-spin as Faye came to the end of her arm, halted by Spike's grip on her wrist. If he let go, there would be no stopping the momentum, that is until the wall. But he didn't. His firm fingers kept their promise and let her swing out all the way.

They'd already been at it for an hour, working on individual moves and building short sequences under Fernando's watch. Move after move Faye found herself abandoning any reservations she'd harbored entering the room. Especially when Spike seized both her wrists.

"Alright," Fernando clapped the timing, "get ready both of you, on three. One – two – three!"

On the slick floor, Faye's feet slipped between his legs. A split-second later the momentum snapped the other direction and pulled her up, feet flying back. The world swung upside down. Locking her arms, in a double wrist grip, she stared down at Spike's confident eyes as he became a solid pillar for her handstand.

"There it is!" Fernando threw a fist in the air. "Perfect stall. Hold it! Don't let the momentum tip you. You ok, Spike?"

He nodded. "Weight's dead center."

"Faye?"

She had to laugh, her arms weren't even shaking this time. "Feels like I'm on the floor, not up in the air."

"Excellent, release on my count. Three – two – one!"

Faye felt the tension in Spike's arms shift the moment he unlocked his left elbow. She tucked into the pike as he brought her down into a circular swing, whipping beneath him like she was jump rope. Off to his right she landed on her feet, rebounded off the floor and spun. Her hands on his shoulders as she hopped over his back into an overhead vault.

Fernando strode in front of them and grinned. "Faye, you make that look as easy as like a game of leap frog! Considering you're clearing six feet easily, that is impressive."

She took in a deep breath, one she needed after this workout. They were purposefully pushing this round, and to her surprise most of the suggestions and combinations came from Spike. Fernando simply helped to spot and shape them. Faye knew the basics of the swing dance, but she discovered it was the gentry version, stripped down and polished. What Spike brought to the room was a style Fernando confirmed as more authentic.

Standing back, Fernando rubbed his chin. "Alright, we have a few good sequences. Now we need to string them. Spike, as much as you were used to just going with the flow, that won't cut it this time. The level we're pushing, you both need to anticipate, or someone will get hurt."

Drying his hands with a small towel, Spike chuckled. "Not the half of it. I'm used to having women cut in on one another and going with that flow."

Faye shot him a dark look. "Women?"

Spike held up his hands. "An alley cat in a jazz hall is a different situation than a pure couples dance. I wasn't courting the kittens there, they were swarming me. Trust me, the last thing I wanted to the end the night with was a fist fight with a pissed off boyfriend. But once old Dizzy started to pound the keys that floor got packed, and the girls all begged to get thrown around." He gave an easy laugh. "That's the thing about swing, it's the guy's job to make sure his partner looks stellar. We're just the anchor."

A thrill ran up her spine. How high could the other guys throw? With Fernando's aid they'd maximized it. From how Spike lifted her to how she moved during take off. As Fernando had confirmed, Spike knew what he was doing, but his 'training' came from the heat of dance floor, it was all improvised. A few pointers took the raw performance and solidified it. After eight solid executions she trusted Spike would be there to catch her when she came back down.

The revelation struck her like a blow.

She trusted Spike.

The terrible betrayal she'd harbored evaporated when she hadn't been paying attention. Replaced by the memory of the other night; Spike placing the tiara on her head, a solemn promise in his tone. The goal shifted. They would force the stars to align to a victory over the contest, drag her long dead dream to existence.

Voices penetrated her runaway train of thought, they'd continued to plan while she'd been distracted. Fernando gestured around the floor, "If you two can pull that off, that should secure first place. Here's the deal, the Esposito's swing routine is solid, but it's been the same one the last two years. I glanced in the practice room during their session. No changes. The judges have already seen it. What they haven't seen is … " he took Faye's hand and spun her toward Spike, " … this."

Faye flashed her gambler's smile, her fist pumped before her. "We'll mop the floor with those snobs!"

"Only," Fernando's hands rested on their shoulders, "if we finish the routine. Ok, let's take it from the top."

Spike snapped into the start pose and held out his hand, a cocky grin plastered on his face. Throwing her head back, Faye closed the distance and grabbed his hand and whipped out to the end. Rolling back into his embrace she fell into the low dip all while Fernando clapped the timing.

Faye came upright and blinked. Wait. Fernando kept the timing to what would be their music … yet Spike appeared to be counting? He never counted! Why were his lips moving? Spike had done everything else by the feel.

About to ask, Faye's chance dashed away as Spike prepared to launch her. In a swift pull her feet left the ground and suddenly, in the grip of the thrilling flight not a damn thing mattered!

Hair still sopping wet, Spike ruffled it with a towel after his shower, following Faye's. They'd both worked up quite a sweat during the practice, pushing the vigorous routine to the edge of their capabilities. He had to admit the excitement of tomorrow's round teased him. The bounty hunt now a placement based on pure skill, a whole nother animal.

Out in the room, Faye sat on the couch dressed for bed. Something on the screen held her attention. Spike glanced at the flashing images as the newscaster spoke.

"The threat of Europa Pox Virus continues to grow spreading toward the capitol city along with the migration of the suspected carrier, the Eura-spar flocks. Scientists are still uncertain if the illness's vector is the bird or the mosquito that comprises the bulk of its diet. Hospitals are filling to capacity as victims of all ages fall ill. If symptoms are caught early, recovery is possible with treatments. However, there are concerns of viral strain mutations that could lead to resistance. With the threat of its population reaching unsustainable levels, Brookridge, the president of Europa, contacted his council last night and has locked down the ports from all non-essential transports. Europa is essentially in quarantine until further notice."

Faye shook her head. "Glad we're not there. Could end up in quarantine for who knows how long. My skin itches just thinking about it."

Spike leaned on the back of the couch. "They don't close ports for nothing. This is getting serious."

"Wait a minute … Brookridge? Isn't he on this ship?"

"You mean the asshole who tried to flash his rank so he didn't get searched? Yeah, that's him."

"Wonder if he'll be considered an essential transport after the contest. He should be on Europa fixing this."

"He's probably here so he won't catch the damn thing. My guess is he'll find another elite hole to hide in once this is over."

"In other news Io's attempt at a hydro-pod farm in their Death Valley Plain ran into a serious design flaw. Critical moisture escaped through a series of poorly designed valves in the water delivery pipeline. The economically strapped colony has suffered many setbacks in agriculture, making this one yet another as it struggles for self sufficiency. In the midst of this latest famine, Io's president has been under fire. Accusations of misappropriated or even vanishing funds intended for crop research continue to fly while there seems to be no answers from official channels. Citizens are urging imports of off-world crops to support the population of those unable to afford relocation. Imports have remained limited on the desert moon colony despite the pressure. Cost has been the leading factor."

Faye heaved a sigh. "Greedy sons of bitches. I swear, shit like this is what kept me space bound. The way society screws people over."

Spike glanced down at her. "Seem to remember a certain someone screwing over the shipmates she crashed with a few times."

"I … umm, well." She sucked on a fingernail before looking up at him, sheepishly. "There is a difference between a couple of guys and an entire colonized moon."

He half-lidded his eyes. "Tell that to the guys you left stranded with all the coolant drained and no cash left in the safe to repair it. You do know that the Bebop is essentially Jet's whole world. Mine too for the past handful of years since he extended the invitation."

Faye glanced away from him, a slight blush on her cheeks. "I know that now. But … I admit, I didn't back then. To me it was just a ship, a place to crash. And you guys … just … "

He rolled his fingers on the back of the couch, "Victims."

"Heh heh." She shrugged her shoulders. "At the time, yeah." Her finger idly traced her up-drawn knee.

"We're not your personal bank, no more than the ponies are prone to give withdrawals."

Still preoccupied by her kneecap, she murmured, "I admit I was wrong about you guys."

Spike blinked, and leaned forward. "Come again? I'm not sure I heard that right?"

Faye looked up, biting her lip. "I was wrong, the Bebop is so much more than a safe harbor. You two have become like my family."

That took quite a bit to wrench out of her. Spike was about to reply when his phone rang. "Hey, speak of the devil." He picked it up and answered. "What's up, Jet?"

"Good question. Got an update for you two. Have you caught the news yet?"

"Just saw something about the Europa quarantine. Is that what you're talking about?"

On the other end, Jet nodded. "Could say that. More along the lines of one of the contestants."

Faye leaned forward. "Brookridge?"

"No. Ed stumbled across a message instructing a certain Dr. Adenine that a ship was headed to rendezvous in four days with the Golden Calf and take him directly back to Europa."

Spike scratched his head. "Well, he's out of the contest anyway. So all in all, he shouldn't be missed. Cept he seemed like a nice enough guy."

"That's not all there is." Jet rested his forehead in his hand. "There've been short wave communications."

That brought Spike upright. "Shortwave?" He glanced out the window to the star scape drifting by peacefully. Uninterrupted. They were not in hyperspace at all, and not near much of anything. "From and to where?"

"Good question. We're a good ways behind. Ed's had a lock on the Golden Calf's communications since she hacked in for the participant list. There's been no sign their staff is aware of her link. Since then, she's been monitoring everything, public and private. Most is the typical chatter. These have been encoded shortwaves close to the ship. Code she's even having trouble getting a lock on. Have you seen anything out there?"

He shook his head. "No. Which means the source is far enough to be out of immediate range. But who and why?"

"It's possible the planned hack is from off the ship."

"Except for one thing."

Faye leaned forward, pointing toward the wall. "The micro-drive proto-type stolen from the Lansings. Maybe they intend to hand it off?"

"Either way at least one ship will be making contact before the end of the cruise. Given security here that's not encouraging."

"Micro-drive? What are you two talking about?"

Spike crossed his arms. "Remember that scream when I cut the call short? Yeah, it was some neighbors of ours. A piece of tech got swiped without a trace. Word is it still hasn't turned up. Now I wonder if it is still on the ship, or if those transmissions you mentioned mean it's gone. Either way, we have a big round tomorrow and it's getting late."

"We'll let you know if we stumble on anything else." Jet darted off the screen yelling, "You damn hunk of metal! Drop that right now!"

When Jet didn't come back, Spike shrugged. "Ok, well good night." Clicking the phone off, he stretched and headed for the bed with a yawn. Faye's navy blue dress hung out waiting for the round. He smiled to himself, The plan should work perfect.

Faye glanced across the room to Spike's nightstand, or rather an object on it. "Hold on, whose fedora is that?"

She'd referred to the black hat with a cream ribbon. "Fernando's."

"Why is it here?"

"I'm borrowing it from him." Spike pulled up the covers and flopped down into the bed.

"Uhhh, why?"

He smiled as he cupped his head in his hands, eyes closed. "You'll see."

See You Space Cowboy