Session 26

Jet couldn't look away from the screen. Disbelief that the two out on the dance floor really were his ship mates. Had someone taken on their physical appearances? And yet there were flashes of their grins as they moved around in the camera eye. Incredible.

A strange alert sound came from beside the couch, Ed pulled her goggles on in response and cocked her head. "Ehh? Hrm … Ed's code filter caught another message. Sent and received fifteen minutes ago."

Almost in a daze, Jet responded, "What's it say?"

She scratched her head. "Bring the biscuit instead."

Jet scrunched up his nose and glanced at her. "Biscuit? That nonsense again?"

The googles practically fell off her eyes as she nodded. In her lap, Ein suddenly growled at the broadcast, his hackles rising to full bristle.

Why would the dog growl at the screen? Turning back to the contest, Jet sat bolt upright as two figures dashed onto the dance floor colliding with Spike and Faye.

"I knew this was a tough competition, but when did this become a ballroom blitz?"

A second later an alarm from the bridge blared. Ed rocked forward, singing, "That's the proximity alert you had Edward set up. Something's approaching."

Jet threw himself up the stairs. "Shit!"

Skidding across the floor, Spike found himself in a tangled wrestling grab from behind. An arm attempting to trap his neck in a choke hold. Whoever was behind it had caught him by total surprise. Well of course they had, Spike had been laser focused on the routine. Once the momentum lost to friction, he struggled to get out of the grapple, fortunately having gotten a hand in front of his throat to prevent the worst possible scenario. Able to keep enough pressure from crushing his throat, he pushed and twisted, but the hold was too good. Too professional.

Cracking his eyes open he glimpsed Faye standing with her hair all a mess. The gem-encrusted comb torn out and now gripped in a vicious tug of war between her and … Eliza Dunningham?

Gritting his teeth, Spike snarled at his unseen assailant, "That must mean you're Phillip … or should I say—Ivanhoe."

A hoarse laugh beside his ear, the voice devoid of the elegant overlay as he called over to Faye, "Hand the comb over to her, or I'll kill him."

Eliza, or as Spike corrected in his mind, Uhrikha, tugged on one end of the hair comb, growling, "You're the one who stole my comb, you thief! Give it back!"

Equally miffed, Faye stomped a heel at Uhrikha's foot and held fast to the other end. "I did not steal it! Let go!"

Spike couldn't really spare much attention to the tug of war at the moment. Distracted as Ivanhoe was, his grip shifted. Offering a huffing laugh, Spike tried once more to glance back. "You two really fucked up. She had her heart set on winning this thing. She's really gonna be pissed now."

"Heh, I don't really give a shit."

"You should." In a swift twist, Spike took advantage of the space Ivanhoe'd left and popped out of the grapple. Coming up onto his knees he flashed a grin. "She's the most vindictive bitch I know."

Ivanhoe was about to respond when a snap stole both their attention. Silence between Faye and Uhrikha. Each one held half of the hair comb. Inside the thin casing, the end of the micro-drive protruded. That end in Uhrikha's hand of course.

Shock pervaded as she held it up, "I have it! Let's go!"

Ivanhoe jumped to his feet and ran after her. His fist raised into the air and he pressed a button on a handheld device. All around the deck every security officer dropped unconscious amid a chorus of shrieks from the crowd.

Spike and Faye exchanged the briefest glance, blurting in unison, "The drive!" In a mad dash they tore after the Bruusikhov's. It wasn't every day the prey flushed itself.

Spike's shoes slipped on the polished floor. Halfway across, and not making enough progress with the slick soles, he cursed aloud and tugged one shoe after the other off. Bare feet slapped the floor making for better traction. He pined for his gun, but that was back on the Bebop. Improvised weapon time it was. In a huff he threw first one and then the other at the back of Invanhoe's head. The first one nailed him, but of course shoes weren't exactly bullets. Ivanhoe kept going, blocking the path to intercept Uhrikha as she charged up the stairs ahead of him.

Spike and Faye barreled up the stairs hot on their heels. The moment they came to the top a shot rang out. Ivanhoe brandished one of the fallen security guard's guns. The bullet pinged off the railing, but it kept the duo's heads down, paused in their pursuit.

Faye glared their direction. "Dammit! What were they thinking, tackling us like that!"

"Where did you find that comb?"

"Does it matter?"

Spike peeked above the step to another shot, ducking back down. "It might."

"In the restroom, you know, the night of the slugfeast? I picked it up off the floor."

"Eliza went in before you … she must have dropped it and didn't realize it."

Faye brandished a fist. "She didn't have to tackle me like that. Damn it, there goes our performance score! I swear I'm gonna kick her teeth in!"

Peering again, no shot followed, Spike waved a hand and they both took off following the shadow cast on the wall. It became obvious the way they were headed, Spike's heart thundered at the threat. They were headed for the bridge, it's the only place that made sense in this direction. And with security all knocked out, his cynical mind guessed how this would end if they couldn't intervene.

An alarmed shout interrupted the chase. Up ahead. Spike knew that pleading voice. Daniel Adenine. Skidding around the corner he caught a glimpse of Adenine with a gun to his head before he vanished.

"Shit! Now they got a hostage." Pushing as fast as he could through the halls with Faye not far behind, Spike vaulted up the last flight of stairs and into the lobby-like area immediately outside of the bridge just as the heavy steel door slammed shut.

With all his might, Spike charged the door colliding with his shoulder in some vain hope that it wasn't latched. The result left him staggering backward, glaring at the barrier with a string of curses.

Breathing like a bull, Faye came to his side. Her brow furrowed as she pushed against the door. "Well this is just great. Can't you pick this lock?"

Spike studied the robust mechanism and shook his head. "I could, if you're not in a hurry. This is a complex model, would take too long, especially without any picks. I don't like them having access to the bridge. We need a faster solution."

Both gazed around at the pillared room. Decor lined the walls, paintings, vases, a few tapestries. A veritable museum with ultimately nothing that looked helpful. Faye grumbled, "Where's a fire ax when you need one."

No point in answering, this wasn't an area Spike had explored much, so he didn't know where the closest one was. Precious minutes ticked by until he stood back staring at Faye's heels. A slow smile grew as the calculations played out in his head.

Faye laid her palm on the door. "What we need is something with enough force to break through."

"We have it." When she turned, Spike pointed at her.

Hands on her hips, Faye snapped, "Is that some of kind of weight joke?"

"No. I'm dead serious, Señorita." He held out a hand, gesturing for her to come to the middle of the room. "Neither of us is heavy enough to break through. However, all we gotta do is add enough inertia. If you can keep your knees locked, that door doesn't stand a chance."

Just shy of placing her hand in his, Faye blinked back at the door. "You sure you can release at the right angle? You screw this up and it's really gonna hurt. If I break a leg I'm gonna snap your neck!"

He grinned at her. "Trust me. I got this all worked out." As he gripped both her wrists he took one last look at the door. "Yup, just a matter of spinning fast enough."

Faye lifted an eyebrow. "Wait … you're calculating that in your head?"

"Yeah."

"You lunkhead! Yours are the ideas that get people killed!" She tried to draw back, but he held her firm. "I'm not so sure I trust—"

He locked eyes with her. "Pulling this shit off isn't new. I just don't tell anyone about it. Like on the dance floor, trust me, the math is right. Now, hold on. Count of three!"

Swinging Faye into a layout spin he kept the center tight, faster and faster. Blurred figures appeared at the top of the stairs, but he only used that as a speed mark. Almost there. Marking the gleam of the steel door, through gritted teeth he called out, "Three! … Two! … One!" At the last word he let go, throwing Faye feet first. While Spike threw his all into the effort and ended up tumbling onto his backside, the path carried her airborne toward the door like a massive human lawn dart with a high heel point.

Full force she slammed into the door knocking it frame and all through the opening accompanied by a tremendous thud! Just as Spike had surmised, the door was strong—but the wall holding it wasn't metal.

Faye skidded to a halt on the bridge. Even from the gap Spike glimpsed the knocked out crew on the floor. The Bruusikhov's silhouettes frantic at the control panels. But they froze as the com link crackled out, " … not who you think they are! Cowboys from the Bebop, Spike Spiegel and Faye Valentine!"

Uhrikha turned toward Faye. Their expressions mutual hatred as they leapt toward one another like be-sequined wild cats. Confident Faye had this, Spike regained his footing and sprang for the doorway. Ivanhoe turned to face him just in time to deflect his thrown punch. One quick glance to the side, Spike spied Daniel, bound to one of the chairs, panic in his eyes. The good doctor would have to wait.

Ivanhoe threw a high driving punch, Spike caught it and twisted his arm out of the way, using the momentum to get him away from the controls. Sent staggering, Ivanhoe flashed a snarl at Spike. "I should have known! There just wasn't something right about you two, Spiegel!"

Staying on guard Spike sidestepped cutting him off from rushing at Faye. "Little late for regrets, hacker-boy. You spoiled the contest, but the finale's just begun!"

Ivanhoe's hard eye gleamed over his fist. "You're askin' for it, I'm a champion kick boxer."

Spike huffed a laugh. "Ya don't say, twinkle-toes."

At the insulting name, Ivanhoe tensed and growled. He launched into a violent series of kicks. Warmed up from the dance round, Spike focused into tight blocking with his legs and arms. He kept to the defensive, drawing Ivanhoe around the room. Each strike had impact enough that a complete block wasn't possible, forcing Spike to compensate with deflections. Ivanhoe's mad glare betrayed confidence in his skills as he pushed Spike backward. Of course, Ivanhoe didn't seem to be aware that was a tactic. Spike kept his back to Faye ensuring there would be no tag-team play in this little match.

Close to the door, Ivanhoe suddenly ducked down and performed a leg sweep.

All this dancing had sharped Spike's reflexes in new directions. He adapted swiftly and leapt into the air. Reaching back he caught the throwing blade tucked up and under his shirt. At the apex of the jump, he slung it. Ivanhoe clearly, shocked by the sudden appearance of a weapon, pinwheeled backward, the blade buried itself into his shoulder. He shrieked, gripping his arm and darted for the door.

It was a dirty trick, one not likely to be legal in a kick boxing ring. But real world fights didn't play by rules.

Ivanhoe left a trickle of blood halfway across the lobby floor before Spike's heel caught the center of his back in a flying kick. The transfer sent him tumbling, face grinding across the carpet. Landing on his feet, Spike threw his weight on top of Ivanhoe's chest as his target attempted to turn over into a makeshift defense. Spike pressed his forearm against the man's throat and snarled, "Some champion. Just a pain in the ass small fry."

"Don't! Backup … " Ivanhoe fought to speak around the choking pressure, his hands tried to grip Spike's arm, blood seeped from around the buried blade. "Bucktoll coming … "

"Shut it, you just scored the grand prize. A ticket to the ultimate resort with a real captive audience. Bet they'll love watching you dance in prison." Glancing for something to secure him with, Spike couldn't find anything at hand in the lobby. Though he was glad they hadn't skidded further. He looked up to find they were inches from knocking over what looked to be a priceless vase. With a backhand, Spike knocked him out. As he grabbed the back of Ivanhoe's shirt, he realized, a bit too late, that numerous people now stood gawking at the top of the stairs.

Busted.

To his relief, Fernando was among them. He grabbed the cording from a decorative drape and handed it to Spike. He nodded his thanks and swiftly tied Ivanhoe's wrists behind his back. Once he had that done, he stood to drag the mark back to the bridge when Uhrikha tumbled through the door landing prone and rather unconscious. Faye had tenderized her face rather thoroughly. She now stood in the door cracking her knuckles.

Spike laughed. "Aw Faye, looks like she may need another plastic surgeon."

"That bitch asked for an ass kicking."

"You kicked more than her ass."

"Tackle me on the dance floor, hah!" Faye grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her back onto the bridge. "Lucky she has a bounty on her head, or it would be a body bag for her!"

Faye untied Daniel and used the binding to tether the Bruusikhov's out of way, while Spike went to the controls. Worriedly he glanced back at the unconscious crew. The console was on lockout. All save for the communications. At least they had that much. Something told him that the access codes had been changed by the speed-hackers. Even if the crew were awake, they wouldn't be likely to break in. The screen flashed acceptance of a course change. Change to where? This wasn't good.

Daniel practically hyperventilated looking between the two of them. "You're … you're … you're … bounty hunters!"

As Faye joined Spike in trying to unlock the controls, eyes never leaving the console, he muttered distractedly, "Yup. We sure are. And currently we have a very serious problem. This ship has been hijacked. Damn, they were thorough." A second later he kicked a call through to the Bebop. When Jet answered he responded in a rush, "We've got a problem, pard. We're wrangled the Bruusikhovs, but they've locked out the bridge controls. We could really use Ed—"

Jet's tense voice broke over the com, "Take a number! I wish you guys were on the ship right now. I could really use the firepower!"

Spike jerked upright as something struck him. He blurted, "Bucktoll! Faye, correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't there a bounty out under that? Wasn't it connected to a smuggler ring?"

"Yeah, there was. But no one knew where they were."

Spike grinned at Ivanhoe's unconscious body. "I think Jet just found them! And that's a two-fer score for the Bebop!"

"Not if I get taken out! Shit! Ed, come on! You can hack faster than this!"

"Hush! Ed is working!"

Spike leaned forward trying to glimpse the battle he could only hear through the com. His hand caught the micro-drive embedded in part of the comb, the device left on the console. He held it up and shook his head. It was intact, and he bet he knew what was on it. Glimpsing the still petrified doctor he sighed. That would have to wait for once this was all over and Ed had time to crack the code, there was no way they hadn't buried it in nonsense. For now he and Faye had to find some way to un-hack the ship controls or hell knew where they were going.

"Damn well wish I was there. Could use a dog-fight about now."

"Grrr! I don't like how close we're getting to you!"

The blips on the radar scudded off to the port side, nail-biting close. Out the bridge window they could see a dark ship tangling with the familiar rusted Bebop. That was the only thing that kept the smugglers from docking into the Golden Calf. Spike felt powerless to do anything as even if they had controls, cruise ships didn't have plasma cannons as optional equipment.

"There!" Ed's all too cheery voice broke through. "The smuggler-bugglers won't be expecting this!"

"What are you doing? Why is the hanger opening? ED!"

The alarm in Jet's voice ran a chill in Spike's veins. He leaned forward and cried out, "She better not be taking the Swordfish for a joyride again!"

"Special delivery! Hehehe!"

But what emerged from the hanger bay wasn't a ship. Instead it was six rather small metallic objects jettisoned on a collision course with the smuggler ship.

"What the … ?" Faye gasped.

Wide-eyed, Spike blurted, "Are those—no way!"

See You Space Cowboy