***
Chapter 12 : Ah! The Sweet Suffering
***
So you think we're done? Ah, don't be so hasty.
\\Sugar, spice\\
We've come so far together.
\\Everything nice\\
But all isn't over yet.
\\That's what you are\\
Remember, this is only the beginning of the story.
***
Trowa kept his hands from shaking by will alone.
Quatre had collapsed next to him.
//It's worth it.//
Eyes pleaded.
//Eyes still pleaded with him even as he left them
behind forever, abandoned them. Zechs staring at him
across the hanger bay, before slamming the door closed
to face the demons behind him.//
Demons. And one of those demons that he knew. Even
called friend.
Quatre whimpered from unconsciousness.
//A flash of blinding white from inside. For a moment
outlined in light. Then nothing, blackness, like the
ship had never existed at all.//
He reached forward and hit the distress call, letting
the blackness take him as well.
***
Hal blinked for a second at the readings, surprised at
the results. This had been the last ditch effort of
sweep the area for the missing Preventors. It looked
like it was probably a success.
"We've found them," he called out.
Hal looked at the visual monitor. The shuttle reminded
him of a lost child, small against the darkness. It
was clearly the emergency shuttle that had been left
on the Prometheus in case of trouble.
"Attempting communication."
He flicked the switch and spoke into the microphone
attached to his headset. "This is Rescue Mission 082,
please respond Shuttle 564."
He exchanged a glance with Robby, who shook his head.
Static had been their only answer, there was no
response at all from the shuttle.
"Shuttle 564, please respond." Again, the answer was
silence. Everyone on board knew what that meant. Now
there was mutterings behind him.
Susan Thomptson, the commander on this mission, called
out sternly. "This is not the time for gossip."
Everything went silent.
She turned to Hal, her blue eyes dark. "Tell them we
are coming in. They may just be injured and unable to
answer."
Unlikely, but the slim possibility was worth it.
"We have you in visual and are attempting to make
contact. Help is on the way."
Robby continued to monitor for a response, even some
shift not caused by the waves of all the stars around
them. He glanced at Thomptson's straight back. She was
ordering people into suits to send over to
investigate.
Hal just shrugged. There wasn't much else he could do.
He was just a comm runner after all.
***
He pulled off his gloves and reached out to touch the
body. Not only was it still warm, it was breathing.
Greg didn't consider himself to be a religious man,
but it was times like this he gave a second thought to
the idea. The man wasn't large and, to his
astonishment, he realized just how young he was. Youth
was disguised by the beating he'd obviously taken. H
wasn't even twenty, if that. **Jesus, it's just a
kid.**
He spoke into his comm.
"We've got a live one. He's in pretty bad shape. We
should try to get him out of here pronto."
Someone had managed to stop most of the bleeding.
Crude bandages had been tied, as if by unstable or
childlike hands. His ankle had been splinted, and he'd
been tied to keep from moving. Which meant someone
else was onboard.
"Look around. Somebody helped this guy, there's
someone else here."
"Sure thing, boss."
He gestured two of the others to check controls.
"We'll need a stretcher. I'm no doctor, but he's
pretty messed up and unconscious. Get Fletcher up
here, we need his medical expertise."
"Hey, we've got two more in here."
"That it? There should be two more."
"No, unless they've been stuffed into storage, this is
it."
***
"Make sure they look at the data log. I want to know
where they've been."
"Yes, Ma'am." Hal relayed the order to the outside
team. She probably wanted to track down the missing
ship, as well as the two missing Preventors.
He cocked his head. "They're sending the data over
now, Ma'am."
She nodded her response, before scrolling threw it.
"Send this to the other ships, we'll divide into
sectors..."
***
"Ma'am?"
Susan looked up at the comm officer. "Yes?"
"They've completed the sweep of the area. There's no
trace of the Prometheus anywhere, not even scrap
metal."
"Tell them to keep looking," she said. "Ships just
don't vanish. We've had the entire area surrounded,
there's no where they could have gone."
No, ships just didn't vanish into thin air, not ones
that size. Not when they were working on less than
half power and unstable systems. Not when the entire
area was crawling with Preventor agents looking for
just precisely that. Susan knew it had to be there.
Somewhere.
"Sector C responds negative."
"Sector D responds negative."
"Sector E..."
***
There was a loud knock at the door. Damien jumped up
with a start. Who could this be? He wasn't expecting
company. He opened the door just a crack and peered
out. There was a man dressed in a blue currier's
uniform.
"Yes?"
"Damien McNeil?"
He opened the door wider, after unlocking the chain.
"Yes?"
"I have a package for you, sir. If you'll sign here."
The young man held out a clipboard and a pen.
"Oh, certainly." He scribbled his name illegibly on
the paper.
"Here you are, sir. Have a good day."
"You too," he replied absently, wondering what the
package was. He took the box to his desk and cleared a
space, pulling out a penknife to cut the box open. On
top of the contents sat a letter. Despite his
curiosity, he pulled the letter out first. It was
dangerous to do otherwise given the nature of the
things he collected.
//Dear Mr. McNeil,// it read.
//A few weeks ago, you sent me a great deal of
information on the Order of the Gash. This is a return
of the favor. I hope your curiosity will be satisfied.
Sincerely,
Duo Maxwell//
He pulled the packing from the rest of the box.
Flash.
Gold glimmered and his hand met a smooth surface. He
pulled the puzzle from its confines and stared at it.
This was something he had never expected. **Did you
satisfy YOUR curiosity, Mr. Maxwell?** He doubted he
would ever know.
TBC...
Chapter 12 : Ah! The Sweet Suffering
***
So you think we're done? Ah, don't be so hasty.
\\Sugar, spice\\
We've come so far together.
\\Everything nice\\
But all isn't over yet.
\\That's what you are\\
Remember, this is only the beginning of the story.
***
Trowa kept his hands from shaking by will alone.
Quatre had collapsed next to him.
//It's worth it.//
Eyes pleaded.
//Eyes still pleaded with him even as he left them
behind forever, abandoned them. Zechs staring at him
across the hanger bay, before slamming the door closed
to face the demons behind him.//
Demons. And one of those demons that he knew. Even
called friend.
Quatre whimpered from unconsciousness.
//A flash of blinding white from inside. For a moment
outlined in light. Then nothing, blackness, like the
ship had never existed at all.//
He reached forward and hit the distress call, letting
the blackness take him as well.
***
Hal blinked for a second at the readings, surprised at
the results. This had been the last ditch effort of
sweep the area for the missing Preventors. It looked
like it was probably a success.
"We've found them," he called out.
Hal looked at the visual monitor. The shuttle reminded
him of a lost child, small against the darkness. It
was clearly the emergency shuttle that had been left
on the Prometheus in case of trouble.
"Attempting communication."
He flicked the switch and spoke into the microphone
attached to his headset. "This is Rescue Mission 082,
please respond Shuttle 564."
He exchanged a glance with Robby, who shook his head.
Static had been their only answer, there was no
response at all from the shuttle.
"Shuttle 564, please respond." Again, the answer was
silence. Everyone on board knew what that meant. Now
there was mutterings behind him.
Susan Thomptson, the commander on this mission, called
out sternly. "This is not the time for gossip."
Everything went silent.
She turned to Hal, her blue eyes dark. "Tell them we
are coming in. They may just be injured and unable to
answer."
Unlikely, but the slim possibility was worth it.
"We have you in visual and are attempting to make
contact. Help is on the way."
Robby continued to monitor for a response, even some
shift not caused by the waves of all the stars around
them. He glanced at Thomptson's straight back. She was
ordering people into suits to send over to
investigate.
Hal just shrugged. There wasn't much else he could do.
He was just a comm runner after all.
***
He pulled off his gloves and reached out to touch the
body. Not only was it still warm, it was breathing.
Greg didn't consider himself to be a religious man,
but it was times like this he gave a second thought to
the idea. The man wasn't large and, to his
astonishment, he realized just how young he was. Youth
was disguised by the beating he'd obviously taken. H
wasn't even twenty, if that. **Jesus, it's just a
kid.**
He spoke into his comm.
"We've got a live one. He's in pretty bad shape. We
should try to get him out of here pronto."
Someone had managed to stop most of the bleeding.
Crude bandages had been tied, as if by unstable or
childlike hands. His ankle had been splinted, and he'd
been tied to keep from moving. Which meant someone
else was onboard.
"Look around. Somebody helped this guy, there's
someone else here."
"Sure thing, boss."
He gestured two of the others to check controls.
"We'll need a stretcher. I'm no doctor, but he's
pretty messed up and unconscious. Get Fletcher up
here, we need his medical expertise."
"Hey, we've got two more in here."
"That it? There should be two more."
"No, unless they've been stuffed into storage, this is
it."
***
"Make sure they look at the data log. I want to know
where they've been."
"Yes, Ma'am." Hal relayed the order to the outside
team. She probably wanted to track down the missing
ship, as well as the two missing Preventors.
He cocked his head. "They're sending the data over
now, Ma'am."
She nodded her response, before scrolling threw it.
"Send this to the other ships, we'll divide into
sectors..."
***
"Ma'am?"
Susan looked up at the comm officer. "Yes?"
"They've completed the sweep of the area. There's no
trace of the Prometheus anywhere, not even scrap
metal."
"Tell them to keep looking," she said. "Ships just
don't vanish. We've had the entire area surrounded,
there's no where they could have gone."
No, ships just didn't vanish into thin air, not ones
that size. Not when they were working on less than
half power and unstable systems. Not when the entire
area was crawling with Preventor agents looking for
just precisely that. Susan knew it had to be there.
Somewhere.
"Sector C responds negative."
"Sector D responds negative."
"Sector E..."
***
There was a loud knock at the door. Damien jumped up
with a start. Who could this be? He wasn't expecting
company. He opened the door just a crack and peered
out. There was a man dressed in a blue currier's
uniform.
"Yes?"
"Damien McNeil?"
He opened the door wider, after unlocking the chain.
"Yes?"
"I have a package for you, sir. If you'll sign here."
The young man held out a clipboard and a pen.
"Oh, certainly." He scribbled his name illegibly on
the paper.
"Here you are, sir. Have a good day."
"You too," he replied absently, wondering what the
package was. He took the box to his desk and cleared a
space, pulling out a penknife to cut the box open. On
top of the contents sat a letter. Despite his
curiosity, he pulled the letter out first. It was
dangerous to do otherwise given the nature of the
things he collected.
//Dear Mr. McNeil,// it read.
//A few weeks ago, you sent me a great deal of
information on the Order of the Gash. This is a return
of the favor. I hope your curiosity will be satisfied.
Sincerely,
Duo Maxwell//
He pulled the packing from the rest of the box.
Flash.
Gold glimmered and his hand met a smooth surface. He
pulled the puzzle from its confines and stared at it.
This was something he had never expected. **Did you
satisfy YOUR curiosity, Mr. Maxwell?** He doubted he
would ever know.
TBC...