"So. What do we do now?"
Vila glared up at Soolin, wincing only slightly at the headache that small movement caused. Her head didn't seem to be aching--it wasn't fair. "What do we do now?" he repeated sarcastically. "What kind of question is that?" He turned so she could see his wrists, still firmly manacled. "D'you think I can pick these with a bloody hair pin?"
"Can you?"
Vila, who had opened his mouth for another complaint, closed it abruptly as he turned back to face Soolin. She was holding something in her hand. Two somethings. He looked down, then back up at Soolin's impassive face. "Hair pins?"
Soolin nodded. "There's more where that came from." She shook her head, with its elaborate braid and bun. "Holding this lot up. What did you think I used, anti-grav units?"
"Course not," Vila mumbled, but he couldn't hide the note of hope that had crept into his voice. "Just hang on while I move my hands around to the front."
Soolin watched in fascination as Villa, with a lot of swearing and sweating, finally managed to contort his body enough to get his arms and hands beneath his legs and from there to the front of his body. It took a bit longer--and nearly half the precious supply of hair pins--for the two of them to get the binders off, but they managed it. When the manacles clattered to the floor, Vila winced and glanced at the cell's entrance, his fingers automatically massaging his wrists, but no one came to investigate the noise. "Guess we didn't make enough noise to get anyone's attention," he observed after a tense moment. "Or else no one's listening."
Soolin nodded. "And no one watching us either." She'd automatically searched for listening or watching devices as soon as the cell door closed and locked behind them, but found nothing. Which was suspicious, but she kept that thought to herself.
"Not here or outside the cell," Vila agreed, as if reading her mind. "I can't even hear a guard out there, and it seems strange that Servalan didn't put one outside every cell when they brought us in. She certainly had enough men to herd us all in here. I don't remember much after we left the planet, but I do remember feeling awfully crowded on that shuttle." He closed his mouth on the other thing he remembered, Avon shooting Blake, and the last thought he'd carried into unconsciousness--that perhaps Malodaar hadn't been an isolated moment of madness for the computer tech, but instead the beginning of the end of his sanity. Such thoughts were meant to be kept to one's self until forced into public view, and since Soolin wasn't mentioning Avon right now, neither would he.
"Maybe it's just good soundproofing," Soolin suggested, trying not to let Vila see how surprised she was at his observation. Really, when would she learn not to take things at face value? Especially Vila. He only acted the fool when he wanted to, she'd figured out that much shortly after joining Avon's bunch. Some of the others hadn't quite got it yet--Tarrant, most notably--but she knew Avon wasn't fooled.
Avon. Now there was dangerous ground. She very carefully kept her thoughts to herself about that one; after all, blurting out her suspicions about the precarious state of his sanity wasn't likely to win her any points. Not unless she wanted to join Tarrant in an all-out coup against the original Liberator crewmen. Because, sane or not, it was obvious that Vila was still loyal to Avon, and oddly enough, she trusted his judgment about people. Even insane people. Vila had good instincts, and although she was unlikely to ever tell him so--he'd become unbearable if she did--she was willing to follow his lead in that area as well as his instinct for survival.
Like now. He was shaking his head impatiently at her comment about the soundproofing. "Soundproofing? In a ship's brig? I can hear things out there, normal ship noises, can't you? But no one moving, not even shifting about from having to stay in one place, the sort of noises you can't help making when you're on guard duty. Not outside our door, at any rate."
Soolin moved closer to the door, listening. Vila was right, and again she squelched her surprise. "I don't hear anyone, either. Could she have just one guard inside the cell block, maybe by the main door? And the rest on the other side?"
Vila shrugged. "Dunno. Seems a bit sloppy, if you ask me. Not really Servalan's style."
"Stylish or not, it might work to our advantage," Soolin mused.
"Or it might be a trap." Soolin glared at Vila, then dropped her eyes and nodded; again, the thief was right. "She might be waiting for us to try and escape, so we can be shot. After all," Vila pressed on, "we can identify her as Servalan. She might rather bring our bodies back and not take any chances--better a dead body you have to explain than a live body that can explain itself," he finished, with the air of someone quoting a favorite saying. "That's probably why there's no cameras or recorders--so no one can hear us talking about her."
"But if she wants us dead, why use stun weapons on us?" Soolin objected, then answered her own question. "Probably because she was under orders to bring us in alive, in which case the only way she could get rid of us would be if we were shot attempting to escape. So you're right, it could be a trap." Soolin tapped one foot against the floor impatiently. "But I can't see us just sitting here, waiting tamely to be taken to Earth to be put on trial and executed."
Vila nodded. "I s'pose you're right," he agreed glumly. "When you put it that way, there's no real choice, is there. We either try and escape and possibly get killed now, or we sit tight, get taken to Earth for execution." He shuddered. "Lovely thought." He moved toward the door.
"What are you doing?"
Vila looked over his shoulder. "Getting us out of here, of course. Isn't that what we just decided to do?" He flexed his fingers and grinned as he held up the remaining hair pins. "With these and a few things I have here and there," he patted his shirt front vaguely, "I just might be able to do it. Lucky for us this is an older transport, it shouldn't be too hard to get out of here." He turned back to the door, listening intently before crouching down to study the lock.
Soolin leaned against the wall, watching in fascination as Vila set to work. He was full of surprises, that one; she would have expected him to collapse into a gibbering heap at the possibility of dying here on the ship, had been rehearsing arguments and threats to use on him when he tried to convince her it would be better to wait. He'd thrown her off balance by his easy acceptance of their situation, and she wasn't sure she approved. But it certainly was worthwhile to watch him at work, first on the binders, and now on the door.
She just hoped things would turn out better than she feared.
XXX
"Well?"
"Well what?" Del Tarrant countered tiredly. He wasn't up to being challenged by Dayna, not now.
"Well, what are we going to do?" she asked, doggedly pursuing the subject he thought he'd made abundantly clear he didn't want to talk about.
"Well, I'm going to sit down," Tarrant replied, suiting action to words as he sat with exaggerated care on the edge of the nearest bunk. "Then I'm going to lie down, and maybe get rid of this headache, if I'm lucky. If I'm really lucky, I might even fall asleep." He looked up at her with a cocky attempt at a grin that fell far flat. "How does that sound?"
Her only response was a disgusted look as she stalked around the cell. Looking for what, he didn't know and didn't really care. Not right now. The shock of capture was still too strong, of being hustled aboard a Federation transport, in full knowledge that they were heading back to Earth at top speed, and that he was not only going to stand trial as a rebel and traitor, but also that the outcome of that trial would more likely than not be execution--and never mind who his relatives might or might not be. None of them would acknowledge him now, not unless forced to. And then, no doubt, only to repudiate him.
No, there was no chance of escaping, no matter what Dayna thought. He debated saying that part aloud, then decided not to. She wouldn't listen to him anyway. He closed his eyes and eased his head back onto the hard pillow as she paced restlessly around the room, a caged lioness bitterly resentful of her captivity. Dayna was not meant to be cooped up, of all their lot; she hadn't learned any of the patience the rest of them--except, perhaps, Soolin--had learned through too many weary hours spent in prisons and holding cells. Capture to Dayna was temporary, escape or rescue or some combination of the two inevitable.
Of course, they'd never all been captured at the same time, not like this. Dorian didn't count, he'd been too self-confident to actually imprison them until the very end. So Dayna's unspoken expectations of rescue would be for nothing. He considered warning her that this would only be the first of many long hours of waiting in cells, but decided not to. He didn't really want to keep reminding himself that the future held nothing but more of the same until the boredom and anxiety of waiting was interrupted by first a trial and then, no doubt, the end of their respective lives.
No, it was entirely too depressing, thinking about the future, and Tarrant found himself envying Dayna's determination to treat this imprisonment as something temporary, something to be got around. He knew how desperate their situation was, and so did she, but the difference between them was accepting the inevitable, which he was trying to do, and railing against the bitter unfairness of it and refusing to believe it was over, as Dayna was doing.
Tarrant turned on his side and put his face to the wall. Watching Dayna would only annoy him, or make him start to wonder if she might be right, and that sort of hope was something he could do without. No sense cultivating it, only to see it smashed into a million pieces at Servalan's well-shod feet. He closed his eyes, forcing his tense muscles to relax and willing himself not to hear the whisper of Dayna's boots against the floor.
Breathing as steadily as he could, Tarrant began, gravely and silently, to count sheep.
XXX
Commissioner Sleer silently counted to ten and reminded herself who everyone thought she was, in order to keep from strangling Captain Tesch. Who, in spite of his nod to the fact that she was responsible for the Gauda Prime coup, was stubbornly persisting in telling the Commissioner how he wanted things to run on his own ship now that the mission had been successfully completed. "We need the extra guards, you know who we've got in there," she tried again.
"Ringleader's in surgery, isn't he?" Tesch interrupted. Sleer nodded. Reluctantly. Tesch shrugged. "Well then, our brig's good enough for the rest of them. Unless you think your 'special prisoner' might cause problems?" He laughed at his own joke.
Sleer forced her teeth not to grind through sheer will power. "I don't think you understand," she began, only to have Tesch run rough-shod over her words. Again. It was an annoying habit under the best of circumstances, and today it was driving her insane.
"Thief's still manacled, right?" He didn't wait for her nod of confirmation before plowing ahead. "Troops are needed dirtside, for mopping up, Commissioner. The other commanders have requested my help, and I'm duty-bound to offer it. Especially on this mission. Gauda Prime's the biggest lot we've taken in yet, and Central Command has confirmed that the troops are needed there."
"And we have the best of that lot," Sleer pointed out, but she had the uneasy feeling she was going to lose this argument, in spite of her supposed rank. "You know we do. Why take chances? We haven't even any cameras in the cells, or listening devices. Don't you think--"
"We aren't taking chances." Tesch cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Leader's sedated, might not make it, if the medtechs are right, and the rest are locked up good and snug. So what do we need spying devices for?" he asked with typical military disdain for intelligence gathering techniques less straightforward than his own methods--never mind that such intelligence gathering had brought in not only Blake and his new rebel base but the bonus of the Scorpio crew as well. "They're not going anywhere we don't want them to. We'll bring them back to Earth to stand trial, and that'll be that."
When Sleer opened her mouth to voice another objection, Tesch raised a warning finger. "Sorry, Commissioner, but those are our orders. I don't just make arbitrary decisions; Central Command and I agree on this one."
Sleer bristled at the implied rebuke--arbitrary decisions, indeed--but managed, yet again, to keep her temper under control. Actually, it was just as well there weren't any spying devices in the cells-it might prove awkward if any of the prisoners mentioned that Sleer was Servalan. As of right now, only she and Tesch knew exactly who was on board this particular ship. That could only work to her advantage, but she couldn't allow Tesch to get the upper hand. If she gave up now, it would place her in a position of weakness as far as their relationship went, far weaker than if he actually won the argument. "Nevertheless," she tried, only to find her words run right over by Tesch. As expected.
"The soldiers we brought are going to be allowed to do what they do best." His voice turned steely. "Which is not babysitting a bunch of locked doors--no matter who's behind them--while their mates dirtside get all the glory. I won't do that to them." He shook his head. "No, the prisoners won't give us any trouble--won't be allowed to. We'll pump a sedative into the cells, if you like, keep 'em under until we reach Earth, but for now we're going to make best speed back home. We have escorts on the off chance someone tries an outside rescue, and that's that."
Sleer seethed inwardly as she nodded, although it practically choked her to control her anger and toady to this short-sighted fool at the same time. When I have resumed the presidency--no, before then, she vowed silently. When I am once again Supreme Commander... She left the threat unfinished in her mind, satisfied with reminding herself that her current situation would not--could not--last. To believe otherwise would be intolerable.
She smiled grimly as she strode away from Tesch, adding him to her mental list of people needing to be dealt with almost as an afterthought.
Soon she would be in a position to deal directly with her enemies--all her enemies--as she personally desired. Soon, very soon, Tesch would discover that he'd made a mistake in crossing her will, no matter how minor a matter he considered it.
And she would enjoy every second of it.