Thanks to everyone who read and to Aileil for reviewing.


"Fine. Whatever. Can I at least have my clothes back?" Harper asked as the ship Squeegee finally disappeared through the doors pleading some unspecified errand. It was obvious that the doctor had no plans to be any more useful than previous when it came to getting him back to or even in touch with the ship, but whatever. He'd do that himself if he could just get to a terminal. Or if he could get his hands on his communicator, which he was ninety-nine percent certain that no one would recognize was a communicator until it was active. Thinking about it now, he should have run through the full capabilities of the things with Tyr at some point between when he'd given him one and now, but...well, hindsight and all of that.

"Aren't those comfortable?" the doctor asked.

Harper was very tempted to respond with a left hook, and never mind that he'd still probably miss, overbalance, and land on his face. He'd say that Tyr was a bad influence, except that Tyr didn't have to punch people to get them to cooperate, he just glared them into it. The bastard. "No. They are not. I want my clothes. With all of the other shit that you people have pulled today, would it kill you to just get them for me? I mean, is a pair of cargo pants really that much of a threat to you?"

The doctor flushed, muttering something that Harper couldn't make out, and Harper gritted his teeth because if they'd tossed his stuff in the 'cycler or something like that he was going to be seriously angry.

Seriously more angry, and that was saying something.

"You know, fine," he repeated after a few minutes of fruitless glaring. "I'm just going to lie back and relax." It was too abrupt a change of attitude to be believable, obviously, but since the doctor couldn't really object to him deciding to lie down it was his best option. And as long as he could keep from falling asleep, hopefully the doctor would get bored or distracted or whatever and eventually go away. Fun fact about sickbays, there were always plenty of sharp objects lying around that could be used for a lot more than healing as long as you didn't care that they wouldn't be much use for anything afterwards.

He wouldn't mind acquiring a sharp object or two at minimum to keep on his person given that they'd helpfully relieved him of his knives, his nanowelder and blaster, and literally everything else he'd had with him right along with his clothes. He should probably consider himself lucky that his port was permanent.

The doctor took a seat at a console not far away shortly after his declaration, shooting more than the occasional suspicious look in his direction, and he folded an arm behind his head and stared pointedly up at the ceiling. He'd bet anything that he'd spent more time working out plans in his head while ill than they had trying to keep an eye on pissed off kidnapees.

There wasn't a lot to his plan, though, mostly he just needed the doctor to get gone, so he kept himself amused calculating spots on the ceiling tiles while the doctor continued with whatever they were doing. Finally he heard the doctor up and moving again, though, and he shut his eyes quickly and focused on keeping his breathing and heart rate even and slow. Not quite the same as playing hide and seek with an Uber patrol, but some of the skills were weirdly transferable. And while it was a little dangerous because if the doctor decided to drug him again he wouldn't see it coming, given his limited set of options...

Footsteps came close and then retreated a few times, and then finally—finally—there was the sound of a door opening and closing, and Harper opened one eye cautiously. No one in his immediate field of view, and if his ability to focus at a distance still wasn't what it should be, he also didn't see any signs of movement.

Harper opened his other eye as well and after a quick look around pushed himself into a sitting position. Still no one, and since he had no idea how temporary the doctor's absence was, he wasn't going to waste time sitting around.

He swung his legs over the side of the bunk and then twisted sideways, trying to use his arms to take most of his weight so he could get to a standing position without doing himself any damage. It didn't work as well as he'd hoped as his knees buckled almost immediately when his feet hit the floor, his cheek landing hard against the metal edge of the bunk as he fell, but whatever. Bruises healed. Higher priorities.

Since getting back to his feet obviously wasn't going to happen and Harper didn't have any particular pride tied up in walking versus crawling anyway, he dragged himself over to a wall, bypassing the console the doctor had been working on on the way. There was a greater likelihood of interesting things in the wall, and far more obvious finger placements to get the panels off. Worst case scenario, even if he didn't find the communications line that he wanted, he might be able to figure out a way to spray sewage at the next person who annoyed him.

He fumbled a little with the first panel, his fingers not quite as dexterous as they should be, but eventually he got the thing open, and then he set the cover aside and considered his options. No sewage, but since what he really wanted was said communications system that was probably just as well.

The interior cabling wasn't labeled, obviously, but he was legitimately a genius, and it wasn't too hard to narrow down his options. The main computer probably had some kind of protection, and while normally he'd bet on himself against anything short of High Guard technology, the last thing he wanted to find out was that his mind also wasn't at its usual level of sharpness courtesy of their damn gas. Better to bypass anything potentially AI-controlled and go directly into the signaling layer.


The ship's communication system came alive with a burst of curses interspersed with static—at least Tyr assumed they were all curses, only about half of them were in languages Tyr recognized—and Tyr was on his feet with his sidearm in his hand an instant before he recognized the little professor's voice. "Harper?"

"Whoever designed this system was an idiot," Harper snapped.

"What happened?" Tyr demanded. "Where are you?"

"Those stupid Squeegees decided to rescue me from you. No one cared about my opinion on the matter. They still don't care, the—" More static, and then, "Can you come get me? They blasted me with some kind of gas, and I'm still awfully shaky."

Tyr's jaw tightened again. "Where are you?"

"A sickbay. Not sure which one, but I doubt it's the main considering that I'm the only one here." Another curse. "This computer system is ridiculous. And pathetic. Do you have your communicator?"

"Yes. I assume that it has tracking capability?"

"Yeah. Not quite as upgraded as mine, but since they're meant to find each other and mine was with me when they grabbed me, that's probably just as well. And not that I have mine now, if I did we wouldn't be talking like this, but with a little luck it'll get you to my general vicinity. And I'll keep sorting through this mess until I know exactly where I—" Static took over the line again, and when Harper's voice came back he was once again swearing furiously.

"You can explain the precise failings in their systems in further detail later," Tyr interrupted, rolling his communicator i n his hand. "How, exactly, do I use this device to locate you?"

"Be better if I explain that later too. For now..." He rattled off a string of numbers and nonsense syllables, proving that whatever was affecting him physically hadn't done much if anything to his mind, and the communicator in Tyr's hand opened fractionally at the top and a moment later displayed a three dimensional vector map. "See anything?"

"A coordinate map with lighted dot in the upper fourth quadrant."

"Good, I'm not out of range. Or at least my communicator isn't out of range. I didn't figure it would be given the size of the station, but you never know. And I was a little afraid that they might have destroyed it."

"I assume if I move towards the dot it will change its position?"

"Yep. Center it up, and you'll be on top of it. We're going to lose the ability to talk once you leave the ship unless I can bounce to your communicator through the ship's systems, though."

"Figure that out next," Tyr ordered. Theoretically Harper's precise location would be more useful if he didn't know where he was in relation to his communicator, but Tyr had no intention of simply sitting here waiting for Harper to provide that information. Especially since it could—would—become stale if Harper was discovered and moved elsewhere.

Of course, if Harper was discovered his access to the computer would no doubt be revoked as well, but even if Tyr was the gambling sort he would never choose to bet against Harper finding some way to access a computer system. The little professor was pleasantly devious in that respect.

"Yeah, yeah, on it."

Since Harper was currently speaking through the ship's systems, Tyr tucked his communicator into his pocket and headed for his quarters to arm himself with something more appropriate than his basic sidearm. If any of these fools attempted to 'rescue' his engineer any further, he would be prepared.

He'd just selected among his guns and pulled on his chest plate when his communicator chimed, and Harper's satisfied "So there," came through the much smaller system. Followed by, "And remind me to update that too, would you?"

Tyr had no idea what 'that' referred to in this instance, but he also knew better than to engage Harper when there was still other work to be done. "Later, professor. Determine your exact location next."

"On it," Harper repeated.

With his agreement Tyr finished putting on his lighter body armor and pulling looser, less obvious clothing over it. Guns were tucked into the appropriate holsters next, and then with another check of the general location of the coordinate, he headed for the main hatch. Assuming the Squirgin had left Harper's supplies in his general vicinity that should get him relatively close, at which point either Harper would do the rest or he'd simply open doors himself until one proved useful. Harper had said that he was in a sickbay, and those tended to have very distinctive scents to those with his olfactory capabilities.

Tyr had no doubt that his exit from the ship was noted, but what any watcher might make of it he had no idea. He hadn't chosen any of his larger guns—although, of course, larger was relative especially since the Squirgins were a human offshoot group—and his body armor was concealed so with only marginal luck they should assume that he was off on another mission of interrogation.

And whether that was their assumption or not, he had an engineer to retrieve.