"Sir?" The voice of one of the bridge crew interrupted Malthesar's ponderings of life, death, and he after-life. "The sensors are picking up a shuttle. We're uncertain if it's ours."
"What direction is it heading, and how many of what sort of life forms are aboard?" Malthesar rose from his chair, trying to push back his personal concerns and focus on the now. "Do the registration codes match any of the Protector's shuttles?"
"Sir, our scanners detect two Thermians on board, and it does not belong with the Protector. The computer is still attempting to match the codes to a ship." A lieutenant reported, with a crisp salute that didn't quite hide the fear in his eyes. "What are your orders?"
"Where is our shuttle? The one with our crewmembers?" Malthesar almost wished he didn't have to ask, that he didn't need to know.
"Still on the planet's surface."
"We shall wait for our crewmembers to return, or for their communication to let us know they have encountered difficulties. I will not leave so many of our crew behind on a planet with limited space flight and vast political divisions. They would be in great danger." Malthesar followed the lieutenant out of his office, and looked over the bridge.
"We are not following the shuttle?" The pilot tried to get a little more information.
"I will not leave our crew behind in what might be a trap. The shuttle is not capable of going very far, and I want the ship's sensors to track it. We will not leave our crew and shuttle abandoned here, especially not since the pirates routinely gather large numbers of violent individuals to fight for them." He hoped that this was the right decision. "Determine how many life forms are on the fleeing shuttle, we will need it for our report."
"Sensors indicate that the shuttle contains two Thermians and an assortment of weapons."
"Our initial report indicated four Thermians and a Dominionite. If only two are on the shuttle, that leaves the other three pirates unaccounted for." Malthesar looked at the screen, showing the blue and green planet below, with clouds swirling over. "Try to signal the pilot of our landing shuttle."
Malthesar and everybody else on the bridge waited in quiet tension as the communications officer tried to contact the landing shuttle. After a few moments and several beeps and whistles, he looked up. "There is no response from within the shuttle, although it appears that the shuttle is undamaged. Most likely, the entire landing party is outside the shuttle. I will attempt to contact the pilot directly."
"Do so," Malthesar spoke firmly, hoping that his worry would be undetected.
"Pilot Teilathar, do you hear me? Please report on your condition." The words were tense, not hiding the worry in the young officer.
:Pilot Teilathar, reporting to the Protector.: The words were a little breathier than normal, and there was some tension. :We are returning to the shuttle, and will be returning to the ship as soon as everyone is properly aboard. There are injuries, I repeat, there are injuries. Our medical officer says that there are multiple blunt traumas and several fractures, as well as Mr. Angel. As soon as we have returned, it is his suggestion that we all report immediately to the medical facilities for more extensive treatment.:
"I will relay your report to the medlab. They will be ready to treat your injured by the time you arrive." The young Thermian gave a hesitant smile, and asked, "Is there anything else I can do, sir?"
"Keep monitoring the other shuttle, and inform me of any changes in course or attempted communications." Malthesar leaned back in his chair, thinking about all possible ways that this could still end in disaster. Had there been a particular reason why the pirates decided to come to this world? Did they have allies, perhaps allies with another ship?
End part 44.
Cordelia could feel the cold metal beneath her. At least she was still dressed, though her head felt like it had been inflated to about three times normal size and had a brass band shoved inside, each of them given a different musical score to play. She groaned, wanting to return to the painless dark of unconsciousness. The light was too bright, she could feel it stinging even with her eyes closed, and there was this horrible scorched stench that she couldn't place.
"Princess? Can you understand my words? Does anything besides your head hurt?" The half-familiar voice seemed distorted, like she was listening to something underwater.
She took a breath, the motion feeling as if her head was grating against a row of meat tenderizers, and a small whimper escaped from her lips. Keeping her eyes closed., Cordelia tried to determine if anything else hurt, or felt weird. She could feel something on her arm, not quite a pinch, but intrusive. Licking her dry lips, she tried to speak, her tongue feeling thick and heavy. "Arm… needle?"
"Yes, there's an intra-veinous needle in your arm. It was the simplest way to administer the medication, and to keep you hydrated during the procedure." That voice could only belong to Alex.
Cordelia considered that, and decided that she didn't want to ask if there had been any complications. Some things could remain mysteries, there were fewer nightmares that way. "Head feels too big. Noisy band inside… Where's Willow?"
"Willow was waiting in one of the shuttle bays, trying to give the landing party some more protection. They're on their way back to the Protector now." Alex spoke gently, as if he was aware of how much her head had to be hurting. "All of the people who went planet-side are returning alive, or close enough in Angel's case."
"Increased sensitivity to light and sound are normal side effects of the sedative. The effects will fade, and in the meantime, you will be taken to a darkened room for a period of rest." Dr. Teirell was speaking again, his voice quiet and calm. "The implantation went smoothly, but we want to give you a... what was the term again?"
"A post-operative check-up. They want you to wait here until they are not only certain you aren't having a bad reaction to the drugs but that the sedative has worn off. It would be best if you don't try to get up or walk around yet." Alex spoke again, his voice tinged with concern. "Can you wiggle your feet a little?"
Cordelia frowned, ignoring the thin memory of her mother's voice telling her not to frown because it caused wrinkles. Her feet were there, feeling rather like stiff blocks. She concentrated on them, and had the sensation of them waving from side to side, though when she tried to curl her toes, all she could feel was the prickling of sleepy feet. "Hands next?"
"Yes, if you can," Teirell's voice was a quiet murmur. "Then I'll need you to open your eyes so that we can check the reactions of your pupils."
Another noise, not quite a moan emerged, and Cordelia tried to move her hands. She imagined that she was grasping something, and her fingers seemed to drag over sandpaper. "Feels so rough… like sand."
"The movement is good." A hand rested on her shoulder, and then cool fingers touched her own hand. "There seems to be a measure of increased tactile sensitivity, most likely a temporary effect from the sedative."
Cordelia tried to swallow, and something small and cold touched her lips.
"Ice chips. You're probably feeling very thirsty right now," Alex spoke again, holding the ship of ice until she could manage to take it into her mouth. "It's probably best if you wait for a while before putting anything into your stomach, many sedatives leave people rather queasy."
"Our medical science is more advanced than that of Earth in some areas, there should be no visible scaring of your skin from this procedure." Dr. Teirell spoke again, his fingers moving to very lightly touch her temple. "It will take some time for the bone to finish healing, and there will be traces left for much longer, but that is normal."
"Too early to tell if it'll work, isn't it?" Cordelia's tongue still felt thick, and her words sounded slurred. "For the visions and the pain."
"I'm afraid so. Ideally, we will be able to stay in the sector for a while, enabling me to make certain that the implant is working correctly." His voice was gentle, and then he spoke, almost apologetic. "I need you to open your eyes now."
The light was harsh and much too bright, stabbing at her brain through the eye. The stabbing pain from the bright little flashlight was repeated with her other eye, and Cordelia closed them both, feeling hot tears well up in response to the light. There were green-purple spots on the inside of her eyelids, afterimages. "It's too bright."
"I'm sorry," The awkward words were an inept attempt at comfort, and then cool fingers touched against her temple again. "We're going to put you in a side room to rest for a while. Things will probably get very busy for a while, the landing party is returning and we'll need to treat their injuries."
Cordelia nodded, immediately regretting the movement. Her skull felt like it was grating over gravel, and her stomach churned. "Right, a dark room to rest. Landing party with injuries… Does this mean we won?"
"I think so. Something close enough for the moment, though I'll need a few more details to be sure." Alex patted her hand.
She made a sound, or tried to, showing her acceptance of the plan. Her eyelids just felt so heavy, and with the light so painfully bright, it wasn't worth the effort to keep them open. A few moments of disorientation while she was moved to another room, and then it was over, she was resting in the quiet dark.
Maybe she drowsed, or maybe she just wasn't entirely awake from the sedatives yet. It seemed like only a few moments before she could hear noises again. Just past the door, a multitude of beeps and clicks carried though the air. She could almost imagine the doctors and nurses scurrying around an assortment of injured people. She could almost see them, pale Thermians in their security uniforms, bruised, maybe with some scrapes and rips in their clothing.
"… set the arm, so that the cartilage…"
"The blasters, they shot at us and there was a golden haze around our skin. Like the shielding for the Protector."
"… ripped the head right off. It was amazing…"
"Give me some blood over here, type D, and an antibiotic. Ancestors only know what bacteria were under…"
"…bones have been cracked, and there may be spinal bruising…"
"My hair even hurts. Can't you give me something, just knock me out?" Jason's voice, exhausted and in pain.
Cordelia opened her eyes, seeing the room cast in shades of gray. Part of her wanted to rush out and make sure that Jason was mostly whole, that he would heal from whatever had happened. She didn't, partly because she doubted that her feet would cooperate, and partly because she knew that her efforts would only be in the way. The medical staff was there, they would help him.
"Cordelia? Are you awake?" Gwen's voice was soft, as if she was afraid of waking someone.
"Who could sleep with all that going on?" Cordelia could feel a half smile, and then sighed. "How bad are the injuries?"
"From the sounds of it, most of them have a lot of bruises, the equivalent of broken bones, and some scrapes. The doctors are worried about infections, and there are some mild burns from the blasters. It sounds like they had to fight against vampires," Gwen's voice was soft, disturbed by the idea.
"I thought that blasters did a lot more than just some burns." Cordelia turned to face the other woman, and gave a thin smile. "So, how are the guys we know?"
"Jason's ribs got hit pretty bad, they're almost certain that one of them was broken. He's got bruises all along his back, and a bump on the back of his head." Gwen sighed, and glanced back at the door. "Angel's hurt pretty bad. His throat is a big bruise, and his back got slammed into the ground repeatedly. They said his shoulder blades were cracked, maybe chipped, and there was some swelling. He just looks so pale, so…"
"Broken?" Cordelia offered, seeing the pained, worried confusion on Gwen's face. It was obvious to her that the blond cared for Angel, and had that horribly familiar helpless feeling that only came when someone that you cared for was hurt and you could do nothing to help.
"Broken," Gwen agreed. "How will they be able to help him?"
"Angel's a vampire, he'll be okay once he drinks enough blood." Cordelia tried to sound confident, as if she had no doubts that everything could be fixed.
"He's not even awake," Gwen whispered, looking back with eyes that screamed her worry.
Trying to reassure Gwen when she was not only worried but still a bit groggy, Cordelia pointed towards the IV. "They have way around that, you know. Angel will bounce back just fine."
"I hope so. I'm looking forward to going home." Gwen sighed, and moved away from Cordelia's bed. "You look like you could use some more rest."
With that, Gwen left the recovery room, leaving Cordelia alone with her thoughts and the sounds of medical attention in the outer room. Cordelia tried not to worry, reminding herself that they were the heroes; that things had to work out. It was almost enough.
End part 45.
Willow rolled her shoulders, trying to get rid of what felt a great deal like a kink in her muscles. She knew that it wouldn't work; the kink was more magical than physical. In the same way that holding her body in one position for too long would start to hurt, holding the protections for the landing party was starting to grow taut and painful, like a cramping magical muscle. She didn't know how much longer she could hold the protections, and hoped desperately that they were ready to come back.
At least the protections weren't being battered any more. If they were out of the fighting and danger, that must mean they were coming back, right? The flashes of pain from the attacks had hurt, wearing at her energy and endurance until she was about ready to scream, not that it would have helped anything if she had.
Lights began to flash along the wall, and Willow blinked at them in puzzlement. Muscles ached as she lurched up from the floor, and the bowl obligingly floated after her as she moved to the hallway. Either those flashing lights meant the shuttle was returning and the bay doors would need to open into the harshness of space, or there was about to be some big problem that she probably wouldn't want to be in the room for.
Willow stumbled, uncertain if there had been something there, or if she'd just tripped over her feet. Regardless, she landed against the wall of the corridor, blinking at the vague thought that that probably should have hurt. Turning around, she looked at the round window into the shuttle bay, watching at the outside doors opened up. The shuttle slipped inside like a lazy fish, settling daintily on the floor, though it was at an angle instead of the geometrically precise alignment that had been there before the trip to LA.
The rear doors closed, and the lights on the wall cycled, going from reds and oranges to soothing greens and blues. The side of the shuttle opened, and bruised security men started to emerge, stumbling and limping. She could feel the thin shells of her magic around them all.
They were back, and whatever they'd gone down to face was over. Willow closed her eyes, whispering a thanks to every power that she could think of as she let the protections wisp away. That magical tension eased, going from an ache of protest to a dull numbness. The bowl clattered against the floor, ringing as it danced in a circle before staying flat.
Squeaking, the door opened, and the first security guard blinked at her. For a moment, they just stood there, Willow swaying with magical exhaustion and the guard swaying with his bruises.
He bowed, fingertips touching each other and being brought to touch between his eyebrows as he murmured, "My thanks to you, Handmaiden, for casting your protection and blessing over us."
"I was glad to offer you my blessing, and I can only hope that what protections were mine to offer were of some assistance." For half a moment, Willow couldn't remember if this was something from the script of the episode, but the slightly scorched scent and another that made her think of an aquarium convinced her that this was real. "What you do can be dangerous, and I know some of the minions of your enemies."
"Your protections saved us," the solemn words came from another of the security guards, his face bruising and his arm held close to his body. "If not for your golden blessing, the blaster fire would surely have killed many of us."
"You were still injured," Willow spoke softly, looking at their injuries and feeling a flash of guilt. Could she have helped them more?
"We will go now to the medlabs, and our injuries will be tended. I am most concerned for Mr. Angel, who has not awakened since he defeated the Dominionite warrior."
"Tell Dr. Teirell and Dr. Lazarus that Angel just needs blood, but he will need a lot of it." Willow looked over the rest of them, seeing that every single person looked to be injured, even the two carrying Angel. "I am pleased that I could help such brave warriors, even if only a little bit."
"We are grateful, Handmaiden," the pilot's words had that particular extra-careful enunciation of someone trying not to slur their words in the depths of exhaustion. "We must go to the medlabs now, all of us."
Willow watched as they started down the hallway, a bit worried by their limping and the fact that she couldn't quite feel her feet. All of them had come back to the ship, that was good.
"So, your blessing was good, huh?" Jason's voice drawled, with the unfortunately familiar weakness of painful ribs. "Now what are you planning? A celebration? Some weird ritual of thanks?"
Snorting, Willow shook her head. "No, now I go to my room and sleep. Don't anybody wake me up unless the ship's being boarded, I'm exhausted."
"Used up all your mojo?" Jason was trying to dismiss the matter, but didn't quite succeed.
"You try holding magical shields over more than a dozen people from orbit and tell me how much energy you have left." Willow's retort was marred by a yawn at the end, and she shook her head.
Deciding that it wasn't worth an argument, she meandered down the hallway, somehow ending up in her room, and collapsing onto her bed. Images danced in her head, tunnels with rivers of something in a nasty green-brown, snarling vampires leaping from the shadows. Blaster fire danced over golden eggs, and a giant bug jumped at Angel. Angel and the bug wrestled on the ground, slamming each other downwards like something out of an old monster movie. Contemplating the stains on their clothing, her mind jumped to a few laundry detergent ads, and then one for an anti-persperant.
"Too weird… I don't need to add the commercials into this crazy adventure." Willow curled around a pillow, and closed her eyes.
Things would be better when she woke up. Injuries would be tended, Angel would be moving again, and she wouldn't ache so much. They could go back home. The galaxy's safety wouldn't be their problem anymore, just their little corner of it. All she'd need to worry about would be stage-fright, occasional demons and vampires, and making sure they found a solution to Angel's clause. Normal was what you made of it, she supposed.
End part 46.