Title: Rescue Run

Author: Lady Rheena

Genres: Alternate Universe, Action/Adventure, Romance

Rating: R

Disclaimer: If you recognise it from a fandom, I probably don't own it. That includes the world of The Matrix, all its characters and the concepts it entails. The idea of the Fleet and the Planetary Coalition are technically my own, but you'll probably recognise bits and pieces from various sci-fi media.

Chapter notes: You might say Niobe isn't the gardening type, but I think after fighting a war your whole life even the most kick-ass ladies would like to take up rose-pruning.

Part 11- I'll Make Me A Flower Garden…

Much to her own disgust, Dena slept a full eight hours until her chrono- which she set to an alert every night despite her tendency to work straight through- woke her at Zion time 0600. She then finished the notations to the cockpit designs along with the circuitry in double time, as the diagrams seemed to make a lot more sense after giving her senses time to recharge and regroup. There was only one problem.

'Well what use is a cockpit design if there's no way for us to get into the damn thing?' Niobe demanded. 'What are we going to do, teleport ourselves inside for the launch?'

'Wouldn't need to,' said Ghost, who had a rather terminal matter-of-fact manner that Dena found both useful and amusing. 'Take off the sealant round the cockpit window, lift it out, we get in and then weld the seal closed afterwards. I'm guessing whoever picks us up eventually is going to be well-equipped enough to get us out of it later, right?'

'So we're going to seal ourselves into the ship?' Sparks said in utter disbelief.

'It's as good a plan as any,' Dena agreed. 'And it'll have the added bonus of ensuring the seal is completely air tight. Believe me, you don't want any leaks once you go orbital.'

'Seal ourselves into the ship?'

'Yes, Sparks, we're going to seal ourselves into the ship,' she repeated.

'Remind me again why I volunteered for this crazy-assed mission?'

'You didn't volunteer, we blackmailed you into it,' Niobe reminded him.

'Oh, right. Yeah, I remember. You bastards.' Then he shrugged and went off to get a pair of heavy-duty shears to cut the retainer couplings on the windshield just as Commander Lock arrived.

'Progress report, Captains?' he said to nobody in particular.

'On schedule for the time being, Commander,' Dena answered when Niobe didn't.

'Engineering reports that concoction sealant of yours should be ready by the time you need it. What about the hardware?'

'All good, sir. If I didn't know better I'd think you ordered the quartermasters to be extra co-operative.'

'If this ship and this crew are going into orbit the last thing it needs is shoddy equipment,' he responded stoically, but she caught the brief flicker of his gaze to Niobe and had to once more hide a smile. 'I've had one of the archivists make the extra copies of the surface with what weather pattern information we have, Captain. If you require additional copies of any printed material Lieutenant Palls is the man to see.'

'I will sir. Thank you sir.'

'Keep up the good work. All of you.' With a final nod, Lock departed. Once he was out of earshot Niobe gave a long, slow laugh. Ghost glanced at her and made a discreet retreat into the loading bay.

'Well well, Captain, you sure have him wrapped around your little finger,' Niobe said to Dena.

'I thought that was your prerogative, Captain,' Dena shot back without a pause.

'Which one of 'em do I kill?' Niobe asked her, meaning Ghost or Sparks.

'Neither. It's pretty obvious, if you don't mind me saying.' Dena strode over to one of the half-built nacelles and pulled out her scanner to check the material integrity. 'He's a good man.'

'Yes he is,' Niobe agreed. 'And a good soldier.'

'In that order?'

The other captain inclined her head slightly.

'That's not an easy question to answer. The two tend to be classed as the same thing here.' She folded her arms, half hugging herself. 'Although if you don't mind me saying so, I get the impression you've had quite a few men wrapped around your little finger in the past.'

'That I have, Captain' Dena said with a grin as she stowed the scanner. 'But if they're worth the bother and willing, after a long tour of duty on-ship who am I to turn the fellas away?' When she turned back she was greeted by a rather wicked and knowing smile.

'You know I think it's high time we dropped this captaining business,' Niobe said. 'Agreed- Dena?'

'As you like, Niobe. And in fact most people I work with call me Dizzi.'

'Dizzi? Dare I ask why?'

'Wouldn't need to, if you'd seen me in a Makauly fighter.'

'So what're your squadron, Dizzi's Daredevils?'

'Desperadoes, actually.'

'How many?'

'Eighteen pilots and the same again for gunners. Mine for six years now. Before that I was shunted about a lot, captaining small hauliers or the occasional light cruiser. But I'm fighter squad, born and bred. My daddy was commander of the Eightfold Path before he bought it in a meteor storm off Callisto nine years ago.'

'I'm sorry,' Niobe murmured.

'I'm not. He died flying, doing what he loved. That's what my mother always says.' Dena sighed. 'I hope I get to go out the same way- if I can't retire to some nice pastoral planet and live out my twilight years with a flower garden, that is.'

'Been a long time since I saw flowers,' Niobe said quietly, shaking her head. 'And I suppose technically I never saw them at all. But I used to like 'em…' Then she smiled again, more warmly. 'If this works and we get a planet for our own, Dena, I'll make me a flower garden and you can come visit me any time you like. Deal?'

Dena laughed and gave her a thumbs-up.

'Deal!'

Progress on the Logos remained steady for the next five months, but Dena hardly noticed that she was continually working herself to exhaustion and then reluctantly collapsing to her bed every four or five nights upon a sharp reminder from Niobe or, on one occasion, a direct order from Lock. In fact, when she consulted the maximum permissible schedule she'd laid out for the refitting of the ship, they were almost an entire month ahead of themselves. Still she drove herself, the unflagging enthusiasm of the dock crews, technicians and any resident ship crews that were around lending a reason to her impulsion. More than once Sparks threatened to deck her if she didn't get some rest. A few times even Ghost had firmly taken a tool out of her hand with a tacit suggestion that she at the very least seek employment that didn't involve cutting implements. She was feeling a nagging itch and sense of bitter confinement at being grounded so long, to add to her other worries, and only the thought of what she was going to do in an increasingly short time kept her from going into some kind of half psychotic rant at everyone and everything in sight.

As her familiarity with the dock and its immediate environs increased, Dena took to staying behind after the end of the main Zion day, working under the light of a large lamp in the now-open cockpit to reprogram the navigation software into something that could make the requisite calculations needed to get a ship into orbit around a planet. It was on one such evening, as the main dock began to shut down for the day to leave the smaller night crews in charge, that she glanced up from her work to find one of the council standing in front of her along with a rather amused-looking Sparks, who had his arms folded. Immediately she saved the file she was working on and climbed down, throwing a quick salute without thinking about it.

'Councillor Hamaan.'

'Not necessary, Captain. We don't stand for much ceremony here, I'm afraid.'

'Sorry sir. Where I'm from it's standard protocol.'

'Indeed. Well, one must expect a little culture shock I suppose, you are from a different world after all. Several different worlds, in fact, if I remember correctly.'

'You do, Councillor.'

He laced his fingers together thoughtfully.

'There's to be a full gathering at the Temple later tonight. I've been asked to speak and I was wondering if perhaps you'd like to address the people as well. Rumours, gossip and hearsay are one thing, but it might do a lot of good for everyone to see our offworld visitor, hear what you have to say, what you're planning to do.'

'Forgive me, Councillor,' she managed to say, 'But some would call that a little pretentious.'

'How so? I'm afraid it's quite common practice here.'

'As the old adage says, Councillor, don't count your chickens before they've hatched.' She tried a small smile. 'I don't want to speak of grand plans in front of everyone and jinx the launch.'

'I see. Very wise.' He regarded her levelly for a moment. 'Perhaps you'll consider it nearer the launch date. Are we currently on schedule?'

'As a matter of fact we're ahead of it, Councillor.' Dena could hardly believe it herself but she'd gone over every square nanometre of the Logos and the little ship was well on the way to becoming spaceworthy. 'At our current work rate she should be ready for launch within another month to five weeks.'

'Ahead of schedule? That's excellent news. Which I will relay when I speak tonight, if you've no objection. Is there anything you plan for the extra time you'll have?'

'Yes sir. I've been preparing several system simulations to assist in training the crew.' She tried to ignore the fact that Sparks rolled his eyes as she said this. 'The extra time will be well-spent in preparation, sir. It should enable the mission to only run more smoothly in the end.'

'Let us sincerely hope so, Captain. I confess I rather like the idea of living someplace with grass.' He gave her another funny little smile. 'Until next time, Captain. Good luck.'

'Thank you sir.' She threw another salute, for the hell of it, which elicited a small chuckle, and then he was gone out of the lamp's glare and into the twilight gloom that bathed the rest of the dock. Sparks glanced after him and then came forward to speak to her.

'You coming tonight?'

'Where?'

'To the Temple.'

'Wasn't planning to. I almost got this flight program finished. Then it's just the air flow monitor and all the software's finished-'

'You said yourself we're a month ahead of schedule for the launch window,' he interrupted. 'Might be a good idea to try some of that R and R thing again. Remember that?'

'R and R in a rock cave crammed with sweaty people, listening to an old fart make a speech?' she retorted. 'Now that's what I call culture shock.'

'It'll do everyone some good to see you there, and it'll do you good to get a damned break.' When she crossed to get some plasfilms from a trestle table he sat on one of the crates beside it and watched her sort through the blueprints. 'Do you always push yourself this hard?'

'I do when I'm trying to stop myself going stir crazy,' she said in a clipped tone.

'Yeah? Well you might find it a little easier to bear if you loosen up a little and let that bug up your ass die.'

She gave him a black look and then ran a hand idly through her hair, which was recently back to its usual chin-length bob after a kindly Cas had offered to give it a trim for her.

'I know I'm playing mister unsympathy here,' Sparks went on, 'But have you paused to consider the fact that two hundred and fifty thousand people are pinning all their hopes and dreams on this launch? You can't keep pushing yourself to the edge or you're going to make a mistake when we hit crunch time and then that's it, the big finito. No backup, and no second chances. You tip yourself over that edge and screw up, that's two hundred and fifty thousand shattered dreams. I hope you realise that, Captain, the next time it takes all three of us to bully you into getting some sleep.' With that, he hopped off the crate and started to walk away.

'Dena,' she said through gritted teeth.

'Pardon?' He turned back.

'My damned name is Dena. You call me captain like that again and I'll break both your legs, hear me?' She looked up just in time to see a shadow of a smile creep onto his face. He came back towards her and folded his arms again.

'You know tonight's a big one. There's more than likely going to be some proper drink about. I mean real drink, not this watered down rehydration shit. You've never tasted anything till you've tasted Zion-made cider.'

'What's in it?'

'Fermented plant material. Mostly. I'm not sure about the engine oil but I can lay to rest the one about the human hair, and the other one about the plasma coolant is a complete fabrication.'

Dena had to smile at that and glanced up at the cockpit. Another overnighter spent wading through mathematical programming algorithms was beginning to look less appetising by the minute.

'Go on,' Sparks said. 'Be a daredevil.'

She gave a weary sigh and killed the lamp.

'Fine, you've convinced me.' Throwing her arms up in an exaggerated gesture of compliance she managed to drag out a tired smile. 'Lead the way.'