Title: Written on a Thumbnail
Author: cofax
Email: cofax@mindspring.com
See Part 1 for complete headers.
*Part 6: Armed With a Broken Heart*
***
The world explodes into pulse fire.
John rolls through the door, slips on a patch of oil in his bare and bloody feet, and lands sprawled behind a maintenance cart. I do the same on the other side. After a few moments during which the weapons fire dies down, I pop my head around the edge and try to get a sense of what's going on. It's not good.
I start saying a rosary, but it's not the one Cat Sullivan tried to teach me in fourth grade. Shit fuck damn shit fuck damn shit fuck damn.
The docking bay is a long rectangular chamber, at least two hundred yards deep and fifty wide. About a dozen ships, Marauders and Prowlers mostly, are lined up along the sides of the chamber, and the center is left open for floor traffic and maneuvering room. The ceiling is very high, maybe another hundred yards above, and there are mezzanines along the walls.
The door we came through is about two thirds of the way down the docking bay, closer to the outside doors. When you take a ship out of the docking bay, first you enter a monster airlock, itself about fifty by fifty by fifty yards. Then you get to exit into space after about a 30-microt cycle. It wasn't a problem coming onto the carrier, but getting stuck in that airlock on the way out had been on my mind all day.
I hadn't figured on getting pinned down before we even got to the airlock, especially not by *Scarrans*. There's an entire squad -- looks like about 12 of them -- settled in on and around a ship of unfamiliar design in the middle of the bay. It's not between us and the closest Marauder, but they're high enough that they've got a commanding view of the entire space.
And we've been spotted, I realize, as Aeryn comes through the door, and barely dodges a blast from some big-headed heat freak. I let off a couple of shots to cover her -- and she goes right, ends up snug next to John behind the maintenance cart. Me, I get Crais a few moments later, and D'Argo finds some cover behind a tech console about ten feet away.
The nearest three ship are Prowlers, which won't fit us all. There's a Marauder thirty yards away, but there's almost no cover.
Well, this just sucks. It looks like the airlock doors have been blown; the air is getting a little thin, but the recyclers are still working. If we were any closer to the airlock this could be a problem. Well, for everyone but D'Argo.
"Got any ideas, mister original thinker?" John snarks at me. He's moved fast enough when he had to, but I can see blood smearing on the metal floor beneath him. His face is strained, grey, and I can see the shudders from here. When it first happened, looking at him shook me, knocked me off my balance. Was I where I was, or where he was? I don't feel that now, looking at him. No one's likely to mistake either of us for the other for a very long time.
"What, you wanna live forever?" I'm only half joking. I do not see a way out of this at the moment. There's apparently a squad of Peacekeepers up the main entrance of the bay; every once in a while the Scarrans fire a few shots that way. It's not enough of a distraction to get us all across to that Marauder.
"Crichton!" hisses D'Argo, and points across the bay. While Crais covers me, I sneak my head around the edge of the cart, and look cautiously in that direction. The lights are beginning to flicker now, but it's clear there's some movement over there.
Squinting, I see about half a dozen people on the far side of the bay, at least one of whom isn't Sebacean, but some white-skinned hairless race. Looks sort of like a pig. He's carrying a large parcel, and keeps bobbing his head like some kind of water bird. They move quietly, though, and stick to the shadows; the Scarrans haven't noticed them yet.
And then a figure in glossy black melts out of a doorway to join them. I nearly put out my back wrenching myself around into cover again.
It's Scorpius, of course -- I'd recognize that Evil Overlord outfit anywhere. I take a few breaths; just seeing him makes my heart race. Aeryn frowns at me inquiringly. "Scorpius!" I stage-whisper, and John's head whips around.
"Scorpius? Here?" There's a hunger on his face I don't recognize.
I nod.
"Good," he says. "I'm going to kill him." And he pulls out his gun, and rolls onto his feet. He's just going to walk out there, right into the Scarrans' line of fire. As if nothing matters but Scorpius.
But John's been on the Chair for days: maybe nothing does.
"Wait!" Aeryn grabs for his arm, to hold him back -- and all hell breaks loose again.
*Boom.* There's a sudden explosion from the main entrance, where the Peacekeepers are trapped. It looks like they've got reinforcements, and a squad is moving on the Scarrans in the center of the room. Pulse bolts are flying everywhere like shotgun pellets on the first day of duck season.
The Scarrans are firing fast and heavy, pulse fire grinding through the air, deadening our ears. But most of them are facing the Peacekeepers advancing through the wreckage that was a squadron of Prowlers three arns ago. In other words, they're not paying much attention to us.
Now would be a very good time to run for one of those Marauders. Aeryn's got the same idea, and she waves John and Crais forward, dashing up the bay towards the nearest ship.
But John doesn't follow her. Instead, while I'm leaning over the console, ready to cover Aeryn and the others, he heads the other direction. He's going to work his way around to the other side of the bay and go after Scorpius. Dammit.
Aeryn and Crais are almost to the Marauder; D'Argo's hunched as small as he can get behind a bin full of cabling. John's twenty yards in the other direction, and edging his way out into the bay behind a Prowler. He's tracking bloody footprints behind him. He doesn't look back at us; his attention is focused on Scorpius and his team as they quietly load a ship with an assortment of boxes and equipment.
Scorpy's leaving town, but John's not about to let him go gently into that good night. John pauses in the last yard of cover before the wide opening in the middle of the bay. He has his gun in his hand, but there's no way he could reach Scorpius from where he is -- there are two ships in the way. And a twenty-yard gap he'd have to cross, in front of the Scarran guns. Shit! I'd love to kill Scorpy too but this is our best chance to bust out of here.
There's a scuffle to my right, and I glance sideways to see D'Argo break from cover and race toward the Marauder. Crais and Aeryn are in the open hatchway of the Marauder, crouching in the cover of the door. But they can't cover D'Argo from that angle; and I wasn't paying close enough attention. As he breaks into the open, a Scarran spots him. I see the gun begin to move, and it's too fast -- I can't get Winona up quickly enough. The pulse-bolt takes him in the torso and he falls hard.
*Frell*. I look left. John's edging closer to the nose of the Prowler; I don't think he even saw D'Argo fall. Then I look right, and Aeryn's out of the Marauder, with Crais next to her. I send off a volley of quick shots, distracting the Scarrans from the rescue. Aeryn and Crais manage to hook D'Argo's feet and drag him up the steps into the Marauder. I wince as his head thunks against the floor, but at least he's out of immediate danger.
Now what? They need me in the Marauder. But Aeryn sticks her head out the door and looks right at me. Before I hear her over the comms, I know exactly what she's going to say. "Go after him, John. We'll cover you." We came all this way for him -- she's not going home without him. She can't bring herself to look at him, but she won't abandon the poor bastard.
All right, fine. I'll risk my life for someone who isn't even entirely human anymore. And she's right; regardless of what he's become, we can't leave him here. I drop down behind the console and duck forward, moving in short dashes after John. There's fire everywhere now, and I glance up to see that John has somehow made it across the bay. He's pressed up against the side of a Prowler. Scorpius is only thirty feet away, on the other side of a dolly full of supplies.
John checks his gun, looks around wildly, and spots me across from him. He gives a grin and a jaunty wave. Moron.
Double moron. He's going to throw himself around the corner and take a shot at Scorpy; but Scorpy's standing right next to a rack of stacked cesium fuel canisters. If John hits that the entire bay will go up like a rocket, and us with it. But he can't see it, and by the time he does he'll be firing.
"Aeryn!" I hiss into my comms. "I need a diversion! Something big!"
"You got it," she responds. Within microts there's a roar as the Marauder's engines fire up. I grab the moment, and skid across the bay to John. I slam into the Prowler next to him, hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
"Bout time you made it," he grins. His eyes are bright, his pupils dilated; he looks like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. I've got my faceplate down but I can still tell he reeks of blood, sweat, and desperation. "But you can't have him, Crichton -- he's *mine*." He doesn't wait for an answer, and instead stands up, swinging around to aim over the nose of the Prowler.
"Shit, no!" Launching myself upwards, I knock his arm sideways and the bolt skitters over the top of the supply-bin instead. One of the Peacekeepers around Scorpius looks up, and it's Braca -- he sees us both. He knocks Scorpius into cover behind the hatch of the ship.
John snarls, and clocks me with his elbow, but I've still got my faceplate down, so instead of breaking my nose he just shakes me off. We do not have time to screw around here, but John isn't willing to leave. I pull myself back up to my feet but now he's got his gun on *me*. Frell. Peacekeeper armor is good but it won't repel a pulse blast at eight inches.
"You -- you don't know--" he starts, his voice in a deep register I've never even tried to use. "Harvey lied, Crichton! He's still here! He lied, and I have to kill Scorpius --" His voice rises toward hysteria, and then the firing around us suddenly stops.
I take a quick glance over my shoulder; the reason for the silence is clear. Aeryn's got the Marauder off the ground, and as I watch, the guns on either side of the Marauder's nose slide out of their ports and come to bear on the Scarrans.
Damn, those are big guns. Not cannons, but big enough to blow the hell out of this bay. "Uh, babe? What are you doing?"
"Giving you some cover. Now, you get John and let's get the frell out of here."
I nod, and turn back to John, but he's still got the pistol on me. The guy's a mess. His goofy pajamas are torn and stained, his feet are bleeding: there's not an inch of him that doesn't look worn to the bone.
We're so close he heard what Aeryn said. "She -- she still -- " He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. I don't want your *fucking* pity. I want my life back!"
I know better than to move; I know what I'm like when I'm on the knife-edge of reason. His hand is shaking, and he wraps the left one around the right to stabilize it. Give him a reason to shoot me, and I'm pretty sure he will. I've got his gun and his girl, don't I? Gotta redirect him.
"It's not pity, John." I want to say she loves him too but I can't bring myself to say it, even when he's holding a gun on me. I glance over his shoulder at Scorpius' team. Braca has his gun in his hand, and is edging closer to us, keeping an eye on the Marauder hovering in the middle of the bay. Scorpius is nowhere to be seen; I wonder if he even realizes we're here. "You really want us all to die here? Because Aeryn's not leaving without you --"
Braca gets a little closer, and then stops as one of the guns swings lazily towards him. That's my girl. But we're running out of time.
John shakes his head wildly. "Someone has to pay! If not him then --" but Aeryn fires at the Scarrans, and his concentration is shaken by the thundering boom. We *so* don't have time for this; I roll my body to the left and knock the gun out of his slack hands. He scrambles to recover it but I don't wait for that, and instead smack him twice in the temple with my armored elbow. He goes down as if he's been tongued.
"Aeryn! Let's get the hell outta Dodge!" I grab John by his pajamas and drag him out into the middle of the bay, under Aeryn's watchful eyes. She fires twice more at the Scarrans, turning their ship into a pile of scrap. They're not much of a threat anymore. But Scorpy's team is shooting at us now, and that squad of commandos, now approaching fast down the bay, may have figured out we're not friendlies.
The Marauder descends to just a yard off the floor, and the hatch opens. Crais helps me pull John's unconscious body in, and closes the door just as bolts start splattering against the hull from above. Someone on the mezzanine finally figured out we were a problem. But we're inside, and pulse blasts can't do much to a Marauder.
Crais bolts the hatch and leaps to the weapons console. I should keep an eye on John and D'Argo but instead I scramble over them and follow Crais. The bridge only has three seats, but it's still a helluva lot more comfortable than a Prowler. "How we doin?"
"We've been in tighter spots," Aeryn says, her eyes on the controls. She brings the ship up fast and spins it to face the big bay doors. They're mostly closed, although there's a gap where they were damaged by the Scarrans when they battered their way in.
"Crais?" Aeryn's voice is strained.
"On your mark," he responds. I look at the console and realize Crais has targeted the cesium canisters next to Scorpius' Vigilante. Oh, boy.
"Three--" she says, and fires the treblin-side gun, full strength, at the bay doors. The bolt slams into the metal and curls it like paper under a blowtorch. The airlock wasn't designed to withstand fire from inside, and gives way easily.
"Two --" she says, and the Marauder begins to move, gaining velocity with unsettling speed. The bay doors approach us, still glowing and wilting as they shrivel. Through the opening I can see the stars -- the outer airlock doors are blown as well.
"One!" She punches the Marauder, and we leap forward into the airlock. As we clear the doors, Crais places one careful shot back into the docking bay.
Take three canisters of cesium fuel, mix with oxygen and an ignition source -- you get one hell of an explosion. The bay is blown to kingdom come, and anyone within a hundred yards of that fuel tank is tiny little bits of charred flesh.
Goddamn, but that crazy goth bastard better be dead. Nobody coulda survived that.
Of course, we're far from home free. We're in the middle of a battle between a Scarran dreadnought and the Peacekeeper command carrier. There are Scarran fighters and Peacekeeper Prowlers and Marauders all around, swinging by in crazy arcs, firing in tight pulses at each other. The carrier's getting hammered. I can see pieces of the great ring beginning to buckle.
This is Aeryn's world, even more than the halls and hatchways of the command carrier. She brings us in tight at the end of a squadron of Marauders that just launched from one of the other docking bays. "They may have reported us before we got out," she says, her attention focused on the control console, "but we may have time to get some distance--"
"Or not," I point out, as a passing Prowler takes a shot at us. Aeryn sees it before they even fire, and rolls us out of the way with a tiny shift of her hands. Man, she's good.
"Where's Talyn?" she asks Crais, as she peels us away and ducks through the cloud of debris left by an exploding brain. Scarrans are picking off escape pods like sharks in a fishtank.
Crais pauses to warn off a Marauder that comes too near. "When the Scarrans arrived in the system, Talyn took advantage of the distraction to join Moya. They are hidden in the deep craters of a moon of the gas giant, and Talyn is giving Moya what help he can. He says -- " here he pauses for a moment, "-- he says Stark and Rygel are working with Chiana and Joolushko to effect repairs to Moya."
We break away from the last of the Peacekeeper squadrons. Aeryn says, "Frell this," and puts the Marauder into a series of maneuvers that strain the grav generators to the max. Within minutes we've dropped all our pursuit behind, and we're in the cold, dim outer reaches of the system before the Scarrans realize we're leaving.
We made it. Now let's see if we can survive the aftermath. We're so often harder on each other than our enemies are.
***
END Part 6
I am the darkness in your daughter
I'm the spot beneath the skin
I'm the shadow on the pavement
I'm the broken heart within
-- Yes Virginia I Am --
http://cofax.freeservers.com
Author: cofax
Email: cofax@mindspring.com
See Part 1 for complete headers.
*Part 6: Armed With a Broken Heart*
***
The world explodes into pulse fire.
John rolls through the door, slips on a patch of oil in his bare and bloody feet, and lands sprawled behind a maintenance cart. I do the same on the other side. After a few moments during which the weapons fire dies down, I pop my head around the edge and try to get a sense of what's going on. It's not good.
I start saying a rosary, but it's not the one Cat Sullivan tried to teach me in fourth grade. Shit fuck damn shit fuck damn shit fuck damn.
The docking bay is a long rectangular chamber, at least two hundred yards deep and fifty wide. About a dozen ships, Marauders and Prowlers mostly, are lined up along the sides of the chamber, and the center is left open for floor traffic and maneuvering room. The ceiling is very high, maybe another hundred yards above, and there are mezzanines along the walls.
The door we came through is about two thirds of the way down the docking bay, closer to the outside doors. When you take a ship out of the docking bay, first you enter a monster airlock, itself about fifty by fifty by fifty yards. Then you get to exit into space after about a 30-microt cycle. It wasn't a problem coming onto the carrier, but getting stuck in that airlock on the way out had been on my mind all day.
I hadn't figured on getting pinned down before we even got to the airlock, especially not by *Scarrans*. There's an entire squad -- looks like about 12 of them -- settled in on and around a ship of unfamiliar design in the middle of the bay. It's not between us and the closest Marauder, but they're high enough that they've got a commanding view of the entire space.
And we've been spotted, I realize, as Aeryn comes through the door, and barely dodges a blast from some big-headed heat freak. I let off a couple of shots to cover her -- and she goes right, ends up snug next to John behind the maintenance cart. Me, I get Crais a few moments later, and D'Argo finds some cover behind a tech console about ten feet away.
The nearest three ship are Prowlers, which won't fit us all. There's a Marauder thirty yards away, but there's almost no cover.
Well, this just sucks. It looks like the airlock doors have been blown; the air is getting a little thin, but the recyclers are still working. If we were any closer to the airlock this could be a problem. Well, for everyone but D'Argo.
"Got any ideas, mister original thinker?" John snarks at me. He's moved fast enough when he had to, but I can see blood smearing on the metal floor beneath him. His face is strained, grey, and I can see the shudders from here. When it first happened, looking at him shook me, knocked me off my balance. Was I where I was, or where he was? I don't feel that now, looking at him. No one's likely to mistake either of us for the other for a very long time.
"What, you wanna live forever?" I'm only half joking. I do not see a way out of this at the moment. There's apparently a squad of Peacekeepers up the main entrance of the bay; every once in a while the Scarrans fire a few shots that way. It's not enough of a distraction to get us all across to that Marauder.
"Crichton!" hisses D'Argo, and points across the bay. While Crais covers me, I sneak my head around the edge of the cart, and look cautiously in that direction. The lights are beginning to flicker now, but it's clear there's some movement over there.
Squinting, I see about half a dozen people on the far side of the bay, at least one of whom isn't Sebacean, but some white-skinned hairless race. Looks sort of like a pig. He's carrying a large parcel, and keeps bobbing his head like some kind of water bird. They move quietly, though, and stick to the shadows; the Scarrans haven't noticed them yet.
And then a figure in glossy black melts out of a doorway to join them. I nearly put out my back wrenching myself around into cover again.
It's Scorpius, of course -- I'd recognize that Evil Overlord outfit anywhere. I take a few breaths; just seeing him makes my heart race. Aeryn frowns at me inquiringly. "Scorpius!" I stage-whisper, and John's head whips around.
"Scorpius? Here?" There's a hunger on his face I don't recognize.
I nod.
"Good," he says. "I'm going to kill him." And he pulls out his gun, and rolls onto his feet. He's just going to walk out there, right into the Scarrans' line of fire. As if nothing matters but Scorpius.
But John's been on the Chair for days: maybe nothing does.
"Wait!" Aeryn grabs for his arm, to hold him back -- and all hell breaks loose again.
*Boom.* There's a sudden explosion from the main entrance, where the Peacekeepers are trapped. It looks like they've got reinforcements, and a squad is moving on the Scarrans in the center of the room. Pulse bolts are flying everywhere like shotgun pellets on the first day of duck season.
The Scarrans are firing fast and heavy, pulse fire grinding through the air, deadening our ears. But most of them are facing the Peacekeepers advancing through the wreckage that was a squadron of Prowlers three arns ago. In other words, they're not paying much attention to us.
Now would be a very good time to run for one of those Marauders. Aeryn's got the same idea, and she waves John and Crais forward, dashing up the bay towards the nearest ship.
But John doesn't follow her. Instead, while I'm leaning over the console, ready to cover Aeryn and the others, he heads the other direction. He's going to work his way around to the other side of the bay and go after Scorpius. Dammit.
Aeryn and Crais are almost to the Marauder; D'Argo's hunched as small as he can get behind a bin full of cabling. John's twenty yards in the other direction, and edging his way out into the bay behind a Prowler. He's tracking bloody footprints behind him. He doesn't look back at us; his attention is focused on Scorpius and his team as they quietly load a ship with an assortment of boxes and equipment.
Scorpy's leaving town, but John's not about to let him go gently into that good night. John pauses in the last yard of cover before the wide opening in the middle of the bay. He has his gun in his hand, but there's no way he could reach Scorpius from where he is -- there are two ships in the way. And a twenty-yard gap he'd have to cross, in front of the Scarran guns. Shit! I'd love to kill Scorpy too but this is our best chance to bust out of here.
There's a scuffle to my right, and I glance sideways to see D'Argo break from cover and race toward the Marauder. Crais and Aeryn are in the open hatchway of the Marauder, crouching in the cover of the door. But they can't cover D'Argo from that angle; and I wasn't paying close enough attention. As he breaks into the open, a Scarran spots him. I see the gun begin to move, and it's too fast -- I can't get Winona up quickly enough. The pulse-bolt takes him in the torso and he falls hard.
*Frell*. I look left. John's edging closer to the nose of the Prowler; I don't think he even saw D'Argo fall. Then I look right, and Aeryn's out of the Marauder, with Crais next to her. I send off a volley of quick shots, distracting the Scarrans from the rescue. Aeryn and Crais manage to hook D'Argo's feet and drag him up the steps into the Marauder. I wince as his head thunks against the floor, but at least he's out of immediate danger.
Now what? They need me in the Marauder. But Aeryn sticks her head out the door and looks right at me. Before I hear her over the comms, I know exactly what she's going to say. "Go after him, John. We'll cover you." We came all this way for him -- she's not going home without him. She can't bring herself to look at him, but she won't abandon the poor bastard.
All right, fine. I'll risk my life for someone who isn't even entirely human anymore. And she's right; regardless of what he's become, we can't leave him here. I drop down behind the console and duck forward, moving in short dashes after John. There's fire everywhere now, and I glance up to see that John has somehow made it across the bay. He's pressed up against the side of a Prowler. Scorpius is only thirty feet away, on the other side of a dolly full of supplies.
John checks his gun, looks around wildly, and spots me across from him. He gives a grin and a jaunty wave. Moron.
Double moron. He's going to throw himself around the corner and take a shot at Scorpy; but Scorpy's standing right next to a rack of stacked cesium fuel canisters. If John hits that the entire bay will go up like a rocket, and us with it. But he can't see it, and by the time he does he'll be firing.
"Aeryn!" I hiss into my comms. "I need a diversion! Something big!"
"You got it," she responds. Within microts there's a roar as the Marauder's engines fire up. I grab the moment, and skid across the bay to John. I slam into the Prowler next to him, hard enough to knock the wind out of me.
"Bout time you made it," he grins. His eyes are bright, his pupils dilated; he looks like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. I've got my faceplate down but I can still tell he reeks of blood, sweat, and desperation. "But you can't have him, Crichton -- he's *mine*." He doesn't wait for an answer, and instead stands up, swinging around to aim over the nose of the Prowler.
"Shit, no!" Launching myself upwards, I knock his arm sideways and the bolt skitters over the top of the supply-bin instead. One of the Peacekeepers around Scorpius looks up, and it's Braca -- he sees us both. He knocks Scorpius into cover behind the hatch of the ship.
John snarls, and clocks me with his elbow, but I've still got my faceplate down, so instead of breaking my nose he just shakes me off. We do not have time to screw around here, but John isn't willing to leave. I pull myself back up to my feet but now he's got his gun on *me*. Frell. Peacekeeper armor is good but it won't repel a pulse blast at eight inches.
"You -- you don't know--" he starts, his voice in a deep register I've never even tried to use. "Harvey lied, Crichton! He's still here! He lied, and I have to kill Scorpius --" His voice rises toward hysteria, and then the firing around us suddenly stops.
I take a quick glance over my shoulder; the reason for the silence is clear. Aeryn's got the Marauder off the ground, and as I watch, the guns on either side of the Marauder's nose slide out of their ports and come to bear on the Scarrans.
Damn, those are big guns. Not cannons, but big enough to blow the hell out of this bay. "Uh, babe? What are you doing?"
"Giving you some cover. Now, you get John and let's get the frell out of here."
I nod, and turn back to John, but he's still got the pistol on me. The guy's a mess. His goofy pajamas are torn and stained, his feet are bleeding: there's not an inch of him that doesn't look worn to the bone.
We're so close he heard what Aeryn said. "She -- she still -- " He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. I don't want your *fucking* pity. I want my life back!"
I know better than to move; I know what I'm like when I'm on the knife-edge of reason. His hand is shaking, and he wraps the left one around the right to stabilize it. Give him a reason to shoot me, and I'm pretty sure he will. I've got his gun and his girl, don't I? Gotta redirect him.
"It's not pity, John." I want to say she loves him too but I can't bring myself to say it, even when he's holding a gun on me. I glance over his shoulder at Scorpius' team. Braca has his gun in his hand, and is edging closer to us, keeping an eye on the Marauder hovering in the middle of the bay. Scorpius is nowhere to be seen; I wonder if he even realizes we're here. "You really want us all to die here? Because Aeryn's not leaving without you --"
Braca gets a little closer, and then stops as one of the guns swings lazily towards him. That's my girl. But we're running out of time.
John shakes his head wildly. "Someone has to pay! If not him then --" but Aeryn fires at the Scarrans, and his concentration is shaken by the thundering boom. We *so* don't have time for this; I roll my body to the left and knock the gun out of his slack hands. He scrambles to recover it but I don't wait for that, and instead smack him twice in the temple with my armored elbow. He goes down as if he's been tongued.
"Aeryn! Let's get the hell outta Dodge!" I grab John by his pajamas and drag him out into the middle of the bay, under Aeryn's watchful eyes. She fires twice more at the Scarrans, turning their ship into a pile of scrap. They're not much of a threat anymore. But Scorpy's team is shooting at us now, and that squad of commandos, now approaching fast down the bay, may have figured out we're not friendlies.
The Marauder descends to just a yard off the floor, and the hatch opens. Crais helps me pull John's unconscious body in, and closes the door just as bolts start splattering against the hull from above. Someone on the mezzanine finally figured out we were a problem. But we're inside, and pulse blasts can't do much to a Marauder.
Crais bolts the hatch and leaps to the weapons console. I should keep an eye on John and D'Argo but instead I scramble over them and follow Crais. The bridge only has three seats, but it's still a helluva lot more comfortable than a Prowler. "How we doin?"
"We've been in tighter spots," Aeryn says, her eyes on the controls. She brings the ship up fast and spins it to face the big bay doors. They're mostly closed, although there's a gap where they were damaged by the Scarrans when they battered their way in.
"Crais?" Aeryn's voice is strained.
"On your mark," he responds. I look at the console and realize Crais has targeted the cesium canisters next to Scorpius' Vigilante. Oh, boy.
"Three--" she says, and fires the treblin-side gun, full strength, at the bay doors. The bolt slams into the metal and curls it like paper under a blowtorch. The airlock wasn't designed to withstand fire from inside, and gives way easily.
"Two --" she says, and the Marauder begins to move, gaining velocity with unsettling speed. The bay doors approach us, still glowing and wilting as they shrivel. Through the opening I can see the stars -- the outer airlock doors are blown as well.
"One!" She punches the Marauder, and we leap forward into the airlock. As we clear the doors, Crais places one careful shot back into the docking bay.
Take three canisters of cesium fuel, mix with oxygen and an ignition source -- you get one hell of an explosion. The bay is blown to kingdom come, and anyone within a hundred yards of that fuel tank is tiny little bits of charred flesh.
Goddamn, but that crazy goth bastard better be dead. Nobody coulda survived that.
Of course, we're far from home free. We're in the middle of a battle between a Scarran dreadnought and the Peacekeeper command carrier. There are Scarran fighters and Peacekeeper Prowlers and Marauders all around, swinging by in crazy arcs, firing in tight pulses at each other. The carrier's getting hammered. I can see pieces of the great ring beginning to buckle.
This is Aeryn's world, even more than the halls and hatchways of the command carrier. She brings us in tight at the end of a squadron of Marauders that just launched from one of the other docking bays. "They may have reported us before we got out," she says, her attention focused on the control console, "but we may have time to get some distance--"
"Or not," I point out, as a passing Prowler takes a shot at us. Aeryn sees it before they even fire, and rolls us out of the way with a tiny shift of her hands. Man, she's good.
"Where's Talyn?" she asks Crais, as she peels us away and ducks through the cloud of debris left by an exploding brain. Scarrans are picking off escape pods like sharks in a fishtank.
Crais pauses to warn off a Marauder that comes too near. "When the Scarrans arrived in the system, Talyn took advantage of the distraction to join Moya. They are hidden in the deep craters of a moon of the gas giant, and Talyn is giving Moya what help he can. He says -- " here he pauses for a moment, "-- he says Stark and Rygel are working with Chiana and Joolushko to effect repairs to Moya."
We break away from the last of the Peacekeeper squadrons. Aeryn says, "Frell this," and puts the Marauder into a series of maneuvers that strain the grav generators to the max. Within minutes we've dropped all our pursuit behind, and we're in the cold, dim outer reaches of the system before the Scarrans realize we're leaving.
We made it. Now let's see if we can survive the aftermath. We're so often harder on each other than our enemies are.
***
END Part 6
I am the darkness in your daughter
I'm the spot beneath the skin
I'm the shadow on the pavement
I'm the broken heart within
-- Yes Virginia I Am --
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