Chapter 8: The Attack

"Rigo. Status report."

"Seishou levels low. We got enough to get to Kuiper if we do it the old-fashioned way and coast it. Don't think we can keep pocket hopping. Of course, I would have more to work with if gun boy up there would quit taking potshots at every stray asteroid that passes his scope!"

"I heard that!"

"You were supposed to, runt!"

"Rigo, you horno shit!" A clatter, a thump and a muffled curse announced the boy's imminent descent from the gunner tower.

"Stay up there, brat, unless you want another ass whooping," Rigo warned with no real menace behind it.

"You're not the boss of me!" The redhead's boots emerged on the first visible rung.

"Stay, Suka."

"Aw, Mitsu! Ever since Avalon, you've been no fun! Must be the new haircut, ne?"

"Do it, Kazuya!"

"Yessir, captain sir!" The men below could almost see the insolent salute the boy was sure to have executed. The boots made their way back up the ladder.

Mitsu grinned wryly, then turned to his pilot and second-in-command. "Where'd you put our guests, Gunn?"

"Where you suggested, Captain."

"Separated, yes?" Mitsu raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Gunner answered shortly, slightly miffed that the conman had felt the need to remind him.

"Good. Let's head to Kuiper then and get our seishous recharged. And no more hops for now; I think we've lost any tails we might have picked up when we left Gaia."

Brek nodded, Gunner turned back to his console and Rigo muttered something about pea shooters and redheads but set course for the Belt. From the tower, a wild blast was fired, Kazuya trademark defiance at play. Mitsu smiled to himself. It was good to be on board the Moirai again, surrounded by his ragtag crew. They'd been planetside on Gaia for two weeks longer than planned, even before the kidnapping fiasco, and the conman's body had been fragged from the gravity. Maybe that had been the reason he'd gotten caught so easily in the first place.

Mitsu inhaled lustily. Hai, it was good to be in space again. Now if only the dratted headache would go away…

"Gunn, take over for me? I'm going below to check the cargo."

The three men exchanged knowing glances. They knew what "checking on cargo" meant when their captain used that careless tone. As Mitsu raised the panel and descended the ladder to the lower cargo deck, Gunner yawned, stretched then let his hand casually fall on the com button that transmitted directly to the med bay. The red light blinked off. Brek grinned and palmed the flight deck doors closed while Rigo jumped from his seat to slide the panel back in place.

Ensconced in his gunner tower and still sulking, Kazuya folded his arms across his chest and leaned back, putting both feet against the cannon's controls. "You guys are gonna get caught one day," he hollered down when he heard the panel snick shut and was sure Mitsu was out of hearing range.

"Shut up, Suka!" All three men hollered back in unison.

Beneath the lower cargo deck, half-obscured from the exterior by the Moirai's wide, sweeping wings, was perhaps the best modification to the vessel that Brek had ever fabricated. It had originally been a second gunner pod when Kazuo had been captain, but upon inheriting the ship, Mitsu had decided that it was a useless waste. He didn't have enough skilled gunners – Suka being the only one - to keep the station perpetually manned, and should the crew be embroiled in an unexpected dogfight, the pod was simply too inconvenient to get to.

So Brek had converted the two by two meter area into an observation booth, complete with heavy-duty plastiglass on all four sides for optimum viewing and an automatic plasma shield in case things ever got hairy. The most important feature of the booth, however, was the innovative ventilation system installed especially for Mitsu. The captain had commandeered the area as his own private demesnes when Kazuhiro had declared the Moirai a no-stim vessel, and it was here where Mitsu could indulge in his vice in peace.

Ah…bliss! Fumbling in his vest pocket for the cartridge that had miraculously stayed intact throughout his entire escapade, Mitsu lit a stim and was about to take a deep, satisfying drag when a figure emerged from the shadows.

"You're not planning on smoking that are you?"

"Gods, Hiro!" Mitsu jerked, juggled then ended up dropping the stick anyway. "You scared the holy hell outta me!"

"Good. Then maybe I could scare some sense into you while I'm at it," the medic stepped forward and crushed the stim beneath his boot with disapproval.

Mitsu stared forlornly at the object of his salvation and sighed. "You know, Hiro, I am captain of this ship. I could un-enforce this no smoking policy of yours."

"And then you'd have to find yourself another medic. Is it really worth it?"

"Not really."

The two men exchanged affectionate grins, sharing an old joke. Then Mitsu winced as another shaft of pain thudded against his skull.

Damn this headache! It just won't go away!

"What happened to you, little sib?" Kazuhiro's face turned somber.

Mitsu turned away and stared out the observation shield. Rather than calming him as it normally did, the vastness of space and its myriad points of light only filled him with an aching heart sickness.

"They extracted my 'trodes, Hiro." He answered quietly.

Kazuhiro nodded mutely.

"They didn't use any deadeners either. It was…not pleasant."

Kazuhiro remained still although horror etched his face. As a medic, he knew about a patient's need to lance the boil, to vent out the poisonous emotions that, if left unspoken, could fester and derail recovery. As a fellow orgamech who'd been one all his life, he couldn't help the shudder of revulsion he felt at the thought of an extraction gone awry.

"I didn't know what they were up to at first. I just felt this…it was…shit!" Mitsu paused in painful reminiscence and Kazuhiro waited for him to regroup.

"They weren't gentle about it. Like I said, no deadeners. It was almost as if they wanted me to know how much they could hurt me. And when they disabled my wetware…I could feel them frying my port."

A soul-shattering silence.

"Hiro, I can't fix that, can I?"

Mitsu searched the medic's face for the truth then turned away, unable to stand the sorrow and pity in the other man's eyes. He stared down at his hands and realized they were shaking uncontrollably. He stiffened and placed them deliberately on the guardrail that encircled the booth, willing them to stop.

Outside, a cold constellation of stars scudded past indifferently.

Mitsu felt a hand drop on his shoulder and he looked up to see Kazuhiro's reflection in the glass. His eyes were somber but filled with determination. "We'll go to Kuiper. We'll have someone look at you and see if they can't fix…"

"Don't blow sunshine up my ass, Hiro." Mitsu interrupted harshly. "We both know the truth."

Mitsu continued to stare at his strained knuckles as he gripped the metal rail. The roaring in his ears and the erratic thumping of his heart was testimony to the futility he was feeling as the enormity of the situation finally sunk in. He hadn't had the down time to analyze it before and now that he'd been granted some peace to reflect, he wished it were otherwise. In a sick, twisted way, he wished he were still in the middle of a battle or passed out in another holding cell somewhere – anything to help him forget about the emptiness in his head or the hollowing anguish in his stomach.

The hand slipped from his shoulder and hung loosely at the medic's side, defeated. "Will you tell the others?"

Would he tell the others? What would he say? That without his 'trodes, he had no instant access to them or the ship? That this handicap would severely hamper their ability to successfully complete runs in the future? That he felt incomplete, half a man, and this swirling insecurity in his gut could perhaps get someone, if not all of them, killed at a crucial point during a job? How would he tell his men that, without his 'trodes, he was unfit to lead them?

"No. Not yet. Give me time."

"I just don't get it. It doesn't make sense!" Kazuhiro's voice was plaintive, fear and uncertainty making him sound eerily like his younger brother. "Why you? What do the upper tiers want with you? They've never bothered with runners before. Unless…unless what that woman said was true?"

Mitsu whirled around suddenly, his breathing harsh. An ugly scowl twisted his face unrecognizable. Kazuhiro stepped back, alarmed. He'd never seen his friend filled with such murderous rage.

"What did she say?"

Mitsu spoke with frightening softness although a manic glitter danced in his dark violet eyes. Kazuhiro took another step back, mouth parted in a vain attempt to speak.

"What…did…she…SAY?" Mitsu lashed out, fists clenched and veins throbbing at temples. He had stalked the medic with each bitten off word until he was toe to toe with him and he held Kazuhiro frozen under the savagery of his gaze.

The two men locked in tense confrontation, Mitsu seething with ill-restrained violence. Kazuhiro gulped once, making his Adam's apple bobble, but then his professionalism took over. With clinical precision, he noted his captain's domineering stance, so different from his usual devil-may-care slouch. He marked the command in his voice, the cruel sneer on his lips. And he took in the shorn hair that transformed Mitsu from the scrappy, unkempt runner he had been to something new and frighteningly unfamiliar.

Kazuhiro felt himself staring at a stranger and his eyes widened as he finally allowed himself to believe. "My gods, it is true. You are First Family!"

Shinobu sat in the med bay, amused that his only guard was the silent little girl who stared at him curiously from her perch on her favorite stool. His captors knew he was an Empath; if anything, his robes and his ministrations of their captain proved this. But either they trusted him enough because of the care he'd given Mitsuru or they didn't have a very high opinion of the potential danger of an Empath, because setting a child to watch over him seemed paltry defense indeed.

Poor Morgan. She's stuck with the heavy contingent. I suppose Mitsuru has every reason to treat her like a prisoner. I wonder what else he's told the crew about her?

At the thought of the blond captain, Shinobu eyes crinkled in puzzlement. When Mitsuru had woken up, not only had he not recognized him, he had absolutely no recollection of their time in the dreamscape together. Morgan had to apprise Mitsuru caustically of Shinobu's identity and his part in the entire escapade. Then Kazuhiro had told his captain that he had been saved at least twice by the Empath. It was probably only this information that had saved Shinobu from the severe sentencing Morgan had received.

Shinobu was certain, from the look of distrust and distaste Mitsuru had given him, that he had almost changed his mind about not locking him up but Rigo had burst into the med bay, babbling something about seishou levels. Mitsuru had immediately risen from the pallet, disregarding Kazuhiro's pleas for him to rest. Barking orders for Morgan to be kept secure and guarded in one of the sleeper bays, the captain exploded from the room, his ship his first priority. His crew followed, dragging a recalcitrant Morgan in tow. As an afterthought, Trout was told to stay and "keep the Empath freak company". Shinobu had still been too stunned from Mitsuru's reaction to him and his apparent amnesia to make much of a protest.

Now, he leaned his elbows on the counter in front of him and propped his chin on clasped hands. Then he attempted a tentative smile at the girl across from him. She shyly offered one back and, had anyone else been in the room, they would have keeled over in shock at the sight. Trout never smiled.

"So, what's your name then, signorina?" Shinobu asked engagingly.

The urchin beamed even brighter, obviously pleased at being treated with such politeness, but she shook her head silently in response.

"Won't talk? Or can't?" Shinobu unconsciously dropped his voice and allowed the full brunt of his charm to envelop his companion.

She responded like a thirsty desert, soaking in his sparkling grey eyes and gently flattering attention. She bounced on the stool, black pigtails flying, and clapped her hands softly. Her smile grew ever wider, revealing a row of tiny white teeth. But still she remained mute.

"Hmmm. This is a problem, isn't it? How are we going to communicate if you can't…" Shinobu peered at the girl thoughtfully then seemed to make up his mind as he leaned back with a resolute frown on his brow. "I have an idea. Do you mind if I…?"

As if anticipating the question, Trout scrambled onto the counter and grabbed hold of his hands, placing them decisively on her head. She nodded once and looked up at him with trusting eyes. Shinobu was taken aback by her immediate comprehension in what he was about to proposition. He also marveled at the complete faith she was showing and hesitated but she patted his hands comfortingly and nodded again.

"You know what I'm going to do? And you're not afraid?" Shinobu gave her one last chance to back out.

Trout held his gaze with stormy blue eyes, demanding that he get on with it. He sighed, then sent a tendril of thought questing into her mind. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced. It looked as if Trout's synapses had been encased in layers of impenetrable film, grown thick and obdurate either through time or lack of usage. It was different from the natural shields he encountered when dabbling in non-Empath minds. This looked deliberate.

Shinobu pulled back in surprise and met Trout's pleading gaze. She knew. She knew the block was up and it wasn't her doing. And she was asking him to get rid of it.

"You never wanted this, did you? How long…"

Trout held up three fingers angrily and slapped at his hands which were still resting on her head, urging him to continue.

"Do you know who did this to you?" Shinobu's eyes narrowed dangerously.

She nodded vigorously and pointed to her head, as if daring him to find out for himself.

"All right, then. It might feel strange for a minute, but I think I can get past them. We'll go slowly, shall we? And when I find out who's responsible for this atrocity, we'll have some fun paying him back, won't we?"

The feral smile he gave her was echoed with equal ferocity right back. Shinobu re-entered her mind and started scratching at the edges, careful to peel back each layer gradually for fear that the shock might be too much for the girl. He needn't have worried. For each paper-thin film he discarded, he received the dinning prattle of a ten-year-old who had remained silent for three years. Some of her thoughts amused him with their childlike questions; some made him almost break the connection in anger at what she shared.

Shinobu was so involved in trying to keep up with Trout's incessant chatter that he never realized she was drawing out thoughts from his own mind as efficiently and subtly as an Adept level Empath.

Morgan was pushed none too gently onto the flight deck by a coldly smiling Raffe. When the orders had come over the com requesting her presence on the bridge, the one-eyed man had flashed her an evil smirk rife with retribution. And Rhys, who had opted to join Raffe as guard, more for his sake than Morgan's, had not spared her a sympathetic look. She wondered how much they suspected. Ikeda hadn't said a word about the extraction but Morgan had a feeling her time was up.

"So, le Freya. Any final words before I send your sorry carcass spinning into space?" Mitsu asked her without preamble, his eyes burning with a wild fire.

Even Raffe started at this harsh pronouncement. Rhys stepped up next to her, worried and anxious.

"Captain? Are you sure? I mean, I know she's a Guardian and all, but she did help you escape, right?" The Celt tried to make sense of the unprecedented verdict. He looked around at the rest of the crew. Kazuhiro, to Mitsu's left, wore a forbidding scowl, clearly backing the order. Brek and Gunner also looked as if the justice about to be meted out was justified. Only Rigo and Raffe shared his shock and bewilderment. Up in the gunner tower, Kazuya snored, oblivious to the proceedings.

Mitsu ignored the young man. He traded glares with the woman who actually dared to stare him boldly in the eye, even though her death was imminent. The space between them crackled with threat and menace.

"I was ordered to do it, Ikeda. I was doing my job. But, of course, someone like you wouldn't know about integrity and duty," Morgan lied through her teeth calmly although her palms were cold with sweat. Please, please, please. I don't want to die yet, she thought desperately.

"Oh, I've no doubt you were "just doing your job", Commander. And you loved every minute of it, I'm sure." Mitsu grated. "Some sick part of me can even understand that, but forgive me if I don't like people who are so mindless, they'd follow through with orders that were just plain stupid and wrong."

Rhys, Rigo and Raffe looked from one opponent to the other, baffled. There was something missing in the equation, something they weren't privy to, and the way their captain was trembling with rigid control made them wary of interrupting the battle. The other three of the crew stood firm and bleak.

"So just drop me off at the nearest way station, then, Ikeda. Report me to the proper authorities. You don't want to add murder to your rap sheet, do you?" Morgan grasped at straws.

"No. I can't do that," Mitsu ground out. "You see, Commander, you have a bit of information about me that I'd rather remain secret. And having you alive and aware of that information makes you a liability. You're right; I'm no murderer. But who's to know, out here in space? Who's to confirm that you didn't accidentally, in a fit of drunken rage, slam into the airlock and jettison yourself out of this innocent little trading vessel?"

Mitsu stepped forward and seized her shoulders painfully. Violet mesmerized green and Morgan experienced an unfamiliar sinking in her stomach that signaled the dawning awareness of her inevitable demise.

Someone…anyone? Say something! Save me!

Rhys cleared his throat. Good old Rhys! Morgan swore never to make fun of his blasted sword again. "Captain, I think…"

"Shut up, Ap Dwyyd! This is no concern of yours!" Mitsu ordered, his voice cracking like a whip.

"This is my concern, Captain. She's my kin!" With an amazing show of courage, Rhys faced down the raging stranger that used to be his idol and friend. "And I don't know what she could possibly know or what she could possibly have done to warrant our killing her in cold blood!"

Still gripping Morgan's shoulders, Mitsu swiveled his head to stare down at the Celt. A boiling, irrational hate welled up in him and he bared his teeth ferociously at the younger man. But Rhys held firm.

"Captain…Mitsu…please! Don't do this!"

For a moment, Morgan believed that her cousin's heartfelt plea had gotten through the man's uncontrollable anger. His hold lessened and he seemed to sag with weariness. But then an icy wall slammed over his eyes and his face hardened in firm resolve. The forbidding ruthlessness was even more terrifying than the manic fury.

"Hiro, set the airlock controls."

"NO!"

Morgan bucked violently, trying to release herself from his hold. Raffe and Rhys leaped forward, but whether to save her or help the captain was never to be known. Because at that instant, the Moirai was rocked by the unmistakable blast of laser fire.

"Holy shit!" Kazuya woke up and fell off the gunner seat, banging his head on the cannon's hand grip.

"Where'd that come from?" Brek swiveled around to man his station. Gunner grimly leaped into his seat and checked his readings.

"Rigo? What the hell?" Mitsu abruptly released his captive who fell to her knees in relief. Raffe and Kazuhiro grabbed her and hauled her from everyone's way as the rest of the crew scrambled to battle stations.

"She snuck up on me, Captain. There wasn't even a blink on the scopes!" Rigo turned frantically to his controls and stabbed at the screens. "Unidentified fighter, class unknown. She's fast, Captain. And she's locked and loaded!"

"KAZUYA!" Mitsu roared.

"I'm on it, Mitsu!" Kazuya scrambled back on to his seat and commenced assault.

"No! Stop it, you fool! We don't have enough power to fly and fire at the same time! We're almost at nil energy! If we keep attacking, we'll be dead in space!" Rigo countermanded Mitsu's order even as Gunner and Brek attempted evasive maneuvers.

Laser fire strafed at the ship, frighteningly visible from the flight deck's plas shield. Pilot and copilot dodged as many as they could but the Moirai rocked in protest again as another made contact.

"What the…? There's two? There's two of them!" Rigo yelled.

"I'm on them! I see them!" Kazuya kept firing, ignoring the lights that blinked the dangerous yellow of energy on reserve.

"Dammit, he can't keep shooting! Captain, I'm not kidding around here! If Suka doesn't get them within the next five blasts, we'll be sitting ducks with no power. What do you want to do? Mitsu? Mitsu!" Rigo looked up from his panels, wondering why the man was not barking orders with his usual competence.

Mitsu R'Ikeda stood by the captain's port directly behind Gunner, staring unseeingly out the plas shield. He looked bewildered and lost. And he wasn't 'troded into the ship.

"Mitsu! Snap out of it!" Raffe growled, still holding down a struggling Morgan. The woman ceased squirming at the note of panic in the one-eyed man's voice. Then it hit her; they didn't know.

"Captain, what should we do?" Rigo asked urgently even as another blast caromed off the hull.

The Moirai was slowing down and no amount of fancy flying on Gunner's part was going to change that fact. Suddenly, the interior lights shut down, to be replaced by the eerie red of the emergency reserves. Kazuya was still firing and he had not let out his usual whoop of triumph. There were still two bogies on their tail and they were already drawing power from the reserves cache.

Mitsu was frozen, unable to believe that he'd let his ship get to such dire straits. Had he been 'troded into her, he would have anticipated her every need a split second before she was left wanting. But he no longer had a connection with her. He was blind, deaf and dumb. He was helpless.

And then he felt a tickling in his brain and his mind surged to life again. Almost instantaneously, he found himself jacked into the ship, and she hummed her welcome happily in his synapses. It was shocking, exhilarating…different. Mitsu felt more in tune with the Moirai now than he'd ever had in the past six years and for a brief second, he didn't question it. He just reveled in the sensation of being one with the ship, drunk with power and strength.

He sensed every signal, every pulse, every byte of computerized data that comprised his lady. He recognized the list to the right that spoke of a damaged wing; the sputtering of the engine as she valiantly tried to fly with almost no energy left; the whine of the thrusters as Gunner banked left to avoid another volley of laser fire. In that brief second, Mitsu R'Ikeda was the Moirai.

Then the ecstasy waned as she rebuked him for his neglect. With a whispered good-bye, the ship powered down, her seishou generator empty.

"Sonuvabitch!" Kazuya yelled from the tower as his cannon went dead. Then he ducked instinctively as a laser blast pinged against his shield.

"Rigo, do we have enough to manually land m'lady and keep her shields up at the same time?" Mitsu asked sharply.

"Aye, Captain."

"Gunn, can she do it?"

"It'll be rocky without stabilizers, but if Rigo can get her landing gear operational, I may just get us out of this alive."

"Good. Rigo, where…?"

"Unnamed colony right below us, Captain. I think that's where the bogies came from. They may just have been protecting their own."

"Doesn't matter. I'd rather take my chances being shot at planetside; at least I'll have a fighting chance. And I don't want to risk m'lady anymore. Let's do it, Gunn."

"Hang on, then, boys and girls. This is gonna be one helluva ride!"