A Different Kind of War

There's no love - like your love
And no other - could give more love
There's nowhere - unless you're there
All the time - all the way

There's Nowhere Unless you're there…

Marcus sighed and looked down at the Mealbar. He sniffed at it and made a face. Stephen was doing something similar. Marcus put down his Mealbar.

"I'm going to have a look around." He said softly. He was walking through the cargo bay when he smelt something. A  person. He smelt sweat, dirty clothes and an odd soap smell.

Stephen took a bite of the Mealbar and grimaced. It tasted like regurgitated spaghetti, rubbery and foul. He swallowed it and prepared himself to take another bite when He heard a scuffle.

Jumping up he ran around the side of the boxes to find Marcus holding a large man with a scraggly beard in a necklock.

"It would appear we have a spy on our hands, Stephen." Said Marcus. Stephen stepped closer.

"How did you get in here?" he asked the man who, wisely, didn't struggle with Marcus.

"Through the access hatch." the man replied.

"That hatch was locked!" said Marcus. "I know, I checked it." The man was silent a moment.

"My Brother helped me – he's the captain – he let me in." Stephen met Marcus's eyes they were suspicious.

"Why didn't he tell us then?" asked Marcus.

"Probably forgot about me, it happens a lot. I'm easily forgettable." The man added

Marcus waited a moment and then released him. He rubbed at his neck a moment. Then he extended a hand to Stephen "John Demeter, but most people call me Captain Jack" he said as he shook Stephen's hand. At a warning glance from Marcus Stephen just said "Stephen." He replied.

"I'm Marcus." Said Marcus as John turned towards him.

"And what are you boys doing here?" he asked jovially.

"Very little." Said Marcus. He looked from one to the other.

"well," he said walking towards a small pack, "I was about to have dinner, join me?" he asked as he opened a pack of InstaEats. Stephen's mouth watered, but Marcus spoke before Stephen could accept.

"No thanks, we have our own." Stephen swallowed at the water in his mouth. "And uh, don't come into our area of the Cargobay, Hate for anything unpleasant to happen to you," he paused a moment

"Believe me I'd hate it more," replied Captain Jack.

"Come on Stephen." He said moving away slowly. Stephen followed him, reluctantly back to the Mealbars.

When they were back in their area Stephen turned to Marcus and frowned, "Couldn't we be friendly. It's would jus-'

"Just what Stephen?" Marcus interrupted angrily. "It would 'just' be risking the mission, It would 'just' be risking our lives and ensuring the Natasha dies about the worst death imaginable!" he said in a low angry voice. "We aren't to speak to anyone but the contact, remember?" said Marcus, staring intently at Stephen. After a moment Stephen looked away. They sat and began eating their Mealbars. "We have to wait until we hear the pass phrase" said Marcus softly, Stephen was about to respond when a song came from where 'Captain Jack' was.

I've always thought that I would love to live by the sea, to travel the

world alone and live more simply, I have no idea what's happened to that dream, 'cause there's really nothing left here to stop me, it's just a thought, only a thought."
        Marcus looked at Stephen. Stephen raised an eyebrow, "You spoke?" he said. Marcus gave him a disgusted look as they stood to go and speak with Captain Jack.

Natasha sat, waiting; it had been a few hours since Bester had come. The door opened and a young man with a PsiCorp badge, gloves and an elegant suit on came in. with him was a slender woman in equally formal clothes. The young man seemed distressed when he saw her appearance. He was carrying a tray, as was the woman. They set them down on either side of her.

The man opened a bottle and soaked a small cloth with what smelled like medicine. He reached out to touch her face. She flinched back, her eyes wide. A rational part of her mind told her he was trying to help… But the irrational part refused to be touched, not even if she had to die to stop it…

The woman took the cloth from him and knelt in front of her. She carefully dabbed at Natasha's face. Natasha had to clench every muscle to stop her self screaming and pulling away, though it hurt to clench her abused body. Carefully they treated her face. And after the man removed the chains from her hands, and turned away, The woman helped her stand. And carefully, pulled the back of the grey shirt up. She let out a half scream as the woman pulled the cloth from the healing cuts.

Gentle hands –repulsive- touched her skin. Burning fire erupted where the hands went, followed by the cooling sensation of Antibiotics doing their job. Next they gave her an injection. She pulled away, but the woman sent a small tendril towards her, a feeling. Compassion.

The needle sunk into the bruised juncture on her arm where they had put all the others. A momentary pain, followed a few minutes later by soothing anaesthetic flowing throughout her damaged body. The man had left at some stage and returned with a tray of food and an un-foldable bed. They helped her drink the thick broth they had brought her and then the woman help her lie down, then the woman put a healing patch over her damaged eye.

The warmth from a blanket they had tucked around her, the food and the treatment mad her so sleepy. She drifted away to sleep.