MIRIYA AND KOIBAN HEARD THE EXPLOSION as they edged their way up the darkened hallways, their goggles giving them some visibility through the haze that seemed to be in every part of the prison. Koiban pointed to an exit down to their left and they turned swiftly into chaos.
Bodies were strewn everywhere and the walls and floors were slick with blood.
"Frell…" Miriya murmured as they halted. "Did Crichton do all this?"
"Unlikely." Koiban said behind her. He indicated two convicts locked in an eternal death-grip. "The riot."
He called a halt as they came up to a still-burning hallway. The scattered parts of several Enforcers littered the area. "The explosion." Thick smoke drifted ahead of them, obscuring their view.
"The odds are good he's ahead of us." Miriya indicated. "Probably not alone." Koiban reached down, picked up a shock rod, checked it. It crackled to his satisfaction. Miriya sighed, pulled her pistol.
"All right," She muttered. "This is going on the frelling bill too."
THE FUNCTION OF PAIN IN A HUMAN BODY SERVED A VERY SPECIFIC PURPOSE.
It wasn't that the brain registered pain to be vindictive or arbitrary – it used pain as an alert – an immediate, non-ignorable alert warning that something was very wrong with its body or parts thereof, and Crichton knew that. That did not stop him from he really, really wishing it would just deliver the message and then move on – not keep hammering the point home over and over.
His body felt broken, the shockwave of the explosion concentrated in the hall had flung up it and punched him hard. His throat burned as if he had swallowed the very lake of fire in Hell, making it hard to breathe.
He was bleeding from seemingly everywhere, quills still sticking from him all over, gashes and lacerations crisscrossing him. His armor had borne the brunt, been shredded in the explosion and saved his benighted life. He felt the searing effects of being burnt on his neck and the back of his head, knew he was probably missing hair and counted his blessings.
He coughed blood, spat it and tried not to think about what he might have broken inside. Knew he had to get bearings, had to get up, had to get the women and get out.
Yeah - the Security bunker. Just there. Don't waste it. Don't waste Iskijji. Why didn't matter. She was right. She'd done it and that was enough.
Don't waste it.
He'd bounced against the door and saw the aghast face of Rial beyond, horrified at his appearance. She suddenly gestured frantically - something behind him?
He tried to turn just as something hit him hard from behind, drove him to his knees.
"You!" a shrill voice keened at him. The V'rahn had somehow survived. Another blow rocked him and he flung an arm up defensively, deflected another. He managed a straight-arm punch that knocked the V'rahn back.
Stralh stumbled, almost fell, but righted itself. It looked like hell, blasted and bloody. In its hands was the haft of a broken shock rod that crackled ominously.
"I will kill you for my master!"
The V'rahn shrieked, brought the rod down again, broke Crichton's left forearm and then attacked him in a frenzy, smashing the rod down and laying open the side of Crichton's head.
He staggered back as Crichton fell, brought the other end of the haft over, where naked energy spat and hissed. Its light cast the maniacal face of Stralh with a demonic glow.
Without hesitation, the V'rahn rammed it against the side of Crichton's head and he spasmed at the shock. His vision blanked out. Someone called his name from far away.
A louder scream echoed his choked grunt of pain and Rial stepped out, tried to order the V'rahn to stop.
Crichton was barely conscious. He could not see Stralh, only he heard the V'rahn's strangled "Kill you!" and felt him step over to go after her.
Crichton flailed out, grabbed the frothing, maddened V'rahn in a death grip.
He would not allow it to end this way.
Rial would live. Her daughters would live and he would see to it. Talyn would live and Moya would too.
The monster would win. That was just the way it was.
He would die. He didn't care.
Not for no reason, echoed in his head, have a reason, a reason, reason…
When the V'rahn roared its outrage and began to repeatedly bring the shock rod down on his head, Crichton didn't even feel it – only a warm pressure inside his skull and a blue light that distracted him, gently and lovingly called his name.
His grip on the V'rahn didn't loosen.
He didn't see Miriya and Koiban explode out of the smoke, nor see Miriya kill the V'rahn with an expert shot to the head.
He was too busy falling slowly down, dragging the dead with him, down into a comforting blackness that rose to meet him like the arms of a welcoming lover.
He smelled grass and wind and wondered if death had finally noticed him, prepared to thank it if it had.
THEY MANAGED TO STEAL A PRISON SUPPLY SHIP.
They slipped away and no one thought to stop the nondescript vessel, so common were they, the automated things kept running through the riot, through the subsequent chaos.
Onboard, Koiban fought with the controls and communications, trying to get the single minded computer on it to obey. A shock rod frustratingly jammed under the console shut it up and manual controls cycled up from console.
Rial stepped forward, ordered the Physiker away, to tend their liberator. Koiban hurried back to find Miriya cradling the smashed and ruined head of Crichton in her lap. She looked up at him stricken and felt things snapping on and off and off and on unexpectedly in her chest as hot blood ran over her hands.
Even with the supplies Koiban could find, he could do no more than just attempt to hold things together, though he knew it would not be enough.
He stepped back and Miriya saw it on his face and felt Crichton's life tick down with every drop of bright red that ran through her fingers.
Miriya breathed hard and held on to him tightly. She looked over at Rial at the controls and her daughters and shook her head.
There could be no reason for this, she thought furiously, none. He would die for this? For them? Idiotic! So stupid!
Even as she cursed him, Miriya saw his eyes flutter and heard the breath rattle in his throat.
Crichton died in her hands and she yelled for Koiban, her heart pounding, a cold rearing dread in her, completely rattled by the smile on Crichton's face.
