Jupiter moves slowly into the shuttle's main cabin, watching over her shoulder where the grav beam hatch is hissing closed. Regrets gnaw at her belly, resting in the slight frown on her lips. That moment she might have fled into his arms. So very close. Glancing up, a flush of guilt threatens to overtake her. Bob, laying Gemma's dislocated arm across his lap, returns the gaze with a tremulous smile. Kiza, sizing up the compliment of potential enemies, hair darkened to dull gold by the clinging damp, her face grown cold when she finds their beaten little band far out matched and over powered. Gemma's implacable face, molded into eternal serenity, seems to gauge the distances, the temper of the room, before her eyes rest expectantly on Jupiter. As much from forced bravado, Jupiter squares her shoulders, the tight frown twitching as she recognizes the pale, muted lighting, the deep red wood and gilded walls that arch and line the ovoid space.
"Take a seat, your Majesty." Felicia interrupts with a terse wave of her fingers and a bright, mocking smile while she points with the nose of her weapon at the curving expanse of plush, cream colored cushions. "It's a small ship. The trip is likely to get bumpy." Jupiter ignores her, and instantly regrets her bit of arrogance as the small craft lurches sideways as they slide sideways into a high speed lane of thousands of dazzling ships, sending Jupiter off her feet and falling with a wordless exclamation onto Bob, only to lurch again, swinging in a swift u-turn to slide into an opposite lane, tossing her clear across the chamber onto the opposite curve of cushions. With a sharp lift of her chin and a flick of her slick hair back over her shoulder, Jupiter pushes herself upright, a dull glowing blue smear marking her brief impact with the gleaming interior. Bracing herself with both palms firmly on the creamy couch, she cranes her head in an attempt to see beyond Felicia, Night, and the two heavies blocking the view into the pilot's cabin. With another lurch sideways, she catches a glimpse of a familiar profile sitting at the pilot's console.
"Why am I not surprised?" She murmurs, but Famulus, her two flanking guards, and Night's own crew all appear quite occupied by their escape from the planet's surface.
Kiza has also evaluated their situation, and she slips the illegal sheave into Jupiter's view, a question written across her face. Jupiter nods, and Kiza takes a few shaky steps across the unstable floor and sits beside her, sliding the sheave into her hands. Jupiter runs her wrist across the waiting sheave. She has just begun to immerse herself in her scanning when an image floating above the glassy face catches her by surprise.
"Holy crap!" she says, then realizing her mistake, she hurriedly shuts down sheave, too late.
"What is that?" Felicia hisses, fixing her weapon on Jupiter.
"This old thing?" Jupiter bluffs, holding the sheave lightly with feigned disregard. "I thought I'd start a diary."
"You should be thinking how you intend to endear yourself to the cause," Night sneers. He jerks his chin, motioning one of the heavies to take the sheave.
"Hey!" Jupiter barks, pulling the sheave behind her. "I need this. Unless you happen to have paper and a pen lying around."
"Paper?" Felicia hisses. "Pen? A trick, my Lord, surely these are weapons she seeks to use against you."
"I wish." Jupiter says under her breath. "You want me to be your token Entitled? Then I need something to write my rebellion poster girl acceptance speech."
"Rebellion?" A chorus of incredulous voices pipe up around Jupiter. Famulus swivels around, her perennial smug tenses, her widening eyes echoing their surprise. She half rises, stabbing Night with an accusing stare. Kiza's head shoots up, turning between Jupiter and Chickanery Night. Uncertain, but catching the mood of alarm, Bob's ear buds whiz, his mouth dropping in a little 'o'.
"Rebellion?" Kiza asks, rising slightly from where she has moments before claimed a spot. Jupiter offers her a grudging, shrugging, lopsided grin.
"That's what all this has been about?" Gemma asks, while Bob leans her somewhat upright. Kiza glances aside from Jupiter. She runs two fingers tenderly, sadly, across the silver wing upon her shoulder. Deep thoughts race and collide behind her eyes.
"Today will be recorded in history. The official uprising has begun." Mr. Night leans into the back cabin. "The Royal Families have lived off our backs for too long. After tonight, all that changes." His eyes gleam as he warms to his monologue. His magnanimous gesture encompasses the assemblage of splice around the cabin. "Our time has come." Not all of the crew are so enamored by his boast.
"I will do nothing which proves contrary to my Lord's interests." Famulus' hand rests lightly on the weapon at her hip.
"Then why are you here?" Felicia asks, her tone far too light, her own fingers stroking her weapon's black length. Some personal struggle lowers Famulus's gaze.
"I came at My Lord's behest." And she melts back into her seat, but her eyes remain wary.
"You, just keep flying. We're not clear of this yet," Chickanery snaps. Famulus swivels back to the screens, but not before, Jupiter takes note, she throws a mutinous glare over her shoulder.
"Did I hear him right?" Bob moans, his head swiveling between Jupiter, Night, and Gemma. "I've fallen into some sort of splice rebellion?"
"My duty is to thwart you with every and any means at my disposal," Gemma informs the group at large.
"A broken sim has the temerity to threaten me in my own domain?" Night sneers. Gemma gazes around at the numerous guns suddenly aimed in he direction, then down at her own shorn arm.
"This isn't the most propitious circumstance for arresting... anyone," she agrees mildly.
"How quickly your Aegis allies turn on you, Jupiter. If you ever thought to run to them, you should think again." Night gloats from and blocks the entrance to the pilot's cabin. "Would you put your trust in the very group created to maintain our perpetual servitude?" Jupiter's gaze carries more sorrow than any hint of betrayal as she looks across at Gemma.
"I don't create the laws. My model was designed to enforce them."
"You see? They exist only to protect the wealth and pride of entitleds."
"Ahem, I'm an entitled." Mr. Night snorts, and Felicia's titter is just shy of a giggle.
"In name only. Your behavior betrays you for the ignorant tersis you truly are."
"And that is meant to endear me to your cause, how? If you want my endorsement, then go away and let me think." A twitch begins in Night's left eye. She trapped him by his own machinations, and he resents it deeply. Distracted, Kiza keeps glancing between the pilot's cabin, and Gemma, her fists clutching and twisting the fabric of her pants.
"I will be reviewing anything you intend to say." And sniffing for any sign of weakness, he doesn't need to say. Felicia sidles up to stand over her shoulder as if to monitor her progress.
"I'm sure you will." Jupiter looks up slowly with a baleful glare at the mocking green eyes. "Once I've made my press conference, I imagine we'll have to go to ground for a while."
"We have a cell two sectors over." Felicia's mouth snaps shut at Night's stabbing glare just as the ship lurches to a sudden stop.
"Our agreement was to return Her Majesty to My Lord." Famulus stands to face Chicanery. The goons to either side of her swivel their weapons toward the pale man. The two heavies and Felicia respond in kind, half a dozen guns glinting their dangerous promise.
"I'm sure," Jupiter pipes in above their tense stances, "that Titus Abrasax would love to get his paws on me without Aegis protection. Probably turn me to try and redeem his own hide. Put those away," Jupiter continues," I know exactly where we should hide."
"I make the decisions here," Night snaps, and the nose of his gun tips her direction. Jupiter raises her chin, concentrating on her memory of all the condescending glares she had ever suffered from her time spent with entitleds.
"We go where I decide we go." An eerie silence falls within the ship. Mr. Night sneers, but his hand hesitates. Lifetimes of conditioning war against his dreams of power, until he crumples beneath Jupiter's cold stare.
"Do as her Majesty says." He turns away, and mutters. "For now."
"Famulus, get us out of here. Felicia, I said put that weapon away. Now, leave me to my work." Even Kiza turns her face away at that command. The ship resumes its hasty course, and Jupiter sits lightly, hiding how she clutches the ancient sheave with shaking hands.
Another sharp turn sets everyone bouncing in their seats, and Felicia dances sideways, leaving Jupiter to hider her stab of envy at the equanimity with which her captor regains her feet. Turning away, Jupiter leans low over the sheave, speaking aside. "Kiza," she whispers, "don't believe all that altruism crap." Kiza's eyes dart back to Jupiter. "I've danced with this rat before. He just wants access to nectar for himself. Visions of becoming the next tyrant king."
"Of course," Kiza agrees, cheeks reddening. She nods to herself, replacing any thought of her sorry place in the world with determined grit. With a mighty stretch, she stands.
"As a splice myself," hands on her hips, she turns to face Felicia, "I would be stupid not to find out more." Felicia cocks her head, looking Kiza up and down. "I'm a trained fighter. I could be useful. But, what's in it for me?" And Kiza, capturing Felicia's mercurial attention, deftly moves into her space, guiding her vision away from Jupiter. The ship lurches, bouncing Jupiter so hard she lands ingloriously on the floor.
"Holy crap!" With a resigned sigh, Jupiter crawls on hands and knees to sit between Gemma's and Bob's legs, speaking in a subdued hiss. "Captain Tsing sent you along to protect me, right?"
"Those are my current orders." Jupiter sighs with relief, hoping she can still salvage Gemma's help.
"I need to do something, and I can't see any way to do it without your help. If this lot finds out," she says, jabbing her head toward crowd gathered in and beside the fore cabin, "they'll kill me, no matter what I promised to deliver."
"If you were ordered to protect her," Bob joins their conspiratorial whispers, "doesn't that include keeping her from getting killed? And us too," he finishes with a final flourish.
"Will you help me, this time?" If Gemma could chew her lip in thought, or sigh with resignation, she might have. Instead she offers the slightest nod.
Jupiter makes one final glance where Kiza occupies their captors, then returns to her writing with a feverish determination.