Eventually Hutch had fallen into an uneasy sleep. Throughout the night he was woken by the man in the other bed. Starsky did not sleep peacefully. How can ya sleep trussed up like that anyway buddy? His head thrashed from side to side, and he muttered incomprehensible words. At one point he screamed and Hutch bounded out of bed, seeing in the moonlight that the brunette's face was wet with sweat. Hutch retrieved a cool damp cloth from the bathroom, and gently wiped the handsome face, murmuring nonsense in a comforting low voice. Whether Starsky heard him or not, he didn't know, but eventually the smaller man calmed and his face relaxed into a semi-peaceful sleep once again.
Hutch padded back to his bunk and lay down on his back, right arm behind his head as he closed his eyes once again, wondering just how much of the night was left. He was way more than uncomfortable with the knowledge that he had secured his partner to the bed, but knew he would be even more uncomfortable with Starsky's wrath if he unlocked the cuffs before morning. Sighing deeply, Hutch eventually drifted into his own troubled sleep, to be plagued by his own dark demons.
Later. How much later? The moon passed behind a few lonely clouds, blocking out the light from the room, as the door cracked open a little and a small figure insinuated itself into the cabin. Surefooted and quiet in the darkness, it made its way to the two sleeping men. Stopping to gaze in wonder at the dark haired man handcuffed to the bed, the figure smiled knowing that half the work had miraculously been done. He crossed over to the blond figure in the opposite bunk, taking a moment to admire the lithe Nordic body exposed by the sheets thrown back against the heat.
Pausing a moment as the blond moved in his sleep, the figure waited until he had quieted again before bringing out a large white handkerchief and a bottle of clear liquid. Deftly, it unscrewed the top of the bottle and poured a little of its contents onto the cloth. Careful not to inhale, it screwed the top back on the bottle and approached the supine detective. Swiftly, it placed the cloth over Hutch's mouth and nose. The ice blue eyes flew open at the foreign smelling substance invaded his senses, and Hutch thrashed his arms towards his attacker, but the chloroform was working too quickly. He had time only to look over at his partner secured on the other bed, before darkness overtook him and his body fell limp.
Grasping the tall detective under his arms, the surprisingly strong figure pulled his body off the bed and started dragging him to the door. It paused, breathing heavily, to open the door. The sudden influx of light roused Starsky from his sleep. Rolling over as much as his bound arms would allow, he managed to catch sight of Hutch's heals leaving furrows in the carpet as his body was dragged from the room.
Instantly awake, Starsky shouted, and tried violently to pull his arms free, but the cold steel dug into the flesh of his wrists. Calming for a moment, the brunette wondered what to do. What's goin' on now Blintz. Hell, can't we even have a vacation without our own personal drama any more? Hold on, I'm gonna get to you some how. He could see the key to the cuffs on Hutch's bedside cabinet, way out of his reach. Even if he was to knock it down onto the floor, he wouldn't be able to pick it up and get it into a position to unlock the cuffs. His fingers were numb from the long night's bondage. Sense flew out of the window as he started pulling once again wildly at the unforgiving metal, and he was rewarded by a trickle of blood inching its way down his forearm, towards his elbow from the torn flesh at his wrists. It glistened darkly in the dim light.
He calmed himself, allowing his ragged breaths to quiet. He looked up at the light fitting he was attached to on the wall. Studying it, he could see it was sturdy, but worth the effort of trying to dislodge it. He pulled experimentally with both hands at the same time. Bright white pains flashed down his hands and arms before he gave up. Experimentally, he raised his leg and kicked out above his head at the fixture. Because of the strength of the metal and the fact his feet were bare he managed only to break the bulb and a shard of glass fell, embedding itself in his right hand. He hissed in pain. Great, Starsk. What ya gonna do now? Saw off your hand? The light fitting was still stubbornly attached to the wall, and seemed to lie like a malignant thing over the brunette's head, taunting him. Closing his eyes, he tried to centre himself. C'mon Hutch, what would you do? You're the brains of the operation.
He looked over to the bedside cabinet again, his eyes resting on the telephone. The beginnings of a plan taking shape, he shuffled his legs around, until he could reach the phone with his bare foot. Hooking the telephone onto the floor, he manoeuvred the receiver to a distance he hoped he could shout into. Rolling onto his side as much as he could, he pulled the telephone round until he could see the numbers and, using his toe, pushed 9184.
He heard the ring tone, then the number connected, and after a couple of rings, distantly he heard a sleepy voice answer 'Hello, Ltnt Moore'.
Starsky shouted at the receiver 'Alex, its Dave Starsky. I need you to come up to my cabin quick'.
To his credit, Alex asked no questions. Starsky heard the click as the receiver was replaced, then he fell onto his back and waited.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Alex burst through the door, taking in the sight of Hutch's empty bed, and Starsky cuffed to his. He skidded to a halt.
'Do I want to know what going on here?' he asked carefully.
'The keys to the cuffs are over there' grunted the brunette.
Alex moved to the cabinet, collected the key and winced as he unlocked the cuffs, seeing Starsky's torn and bleeding wrists and the glass sticking out of the palm of his right hand. Starsky slowly brought his arms down to his sides, wincing at the flashing pains down his arms and chest, his breath whistling between his teeth. He lay for a moment, allowing the circulation to return bringing with it a more urgent burning pain before cautiously sitting up.
'Someone got into the cabin whilst we were asleep. They've taken Hutch' he explained to the Bosun. 'I think they drugged him coz he wasn't putting up a fight, he looked unconscious. God, I hope he was only unconscious! I've gotta find him' he tried to get off the bed, but collapsed back dizzy.
'You're not going anywhere till you've been to sick bay and had those hands seen too' Alex replied
'There's no time. I need to find Hutch' Starsky almost shouted, standing again. He made for the door as Alex's hand caught him on the shoulder.
'I'll get my men to do a preliminary sweep of the decks and interior. They know the ship better then you do. Just come with me and we'll let Doc Jackson do his stuff, then we can get to looking harder. Your partner's a tough guy. We'll find him'.
He ushered the curly haired man out of his cabin and down the corridor to the lift. Pushing the button for deck four, they descended and found their way to sick bay. Alex pounded on the door to Jackson's cabin at the rear of the sick bay. 'John' he shouted 'you're needed'
The Doctor opened the door squinting at the sudden bright light. Accustomed to being summoned at all hours, he quickly assessed the situation and pushed the semi-clad detective into the clinical room. Sitting on the edge of the examination table in his pyjama pants, Starsky was grateful that the doctor went swiftly to work without asking too many questions.
Doctor Jackson examined Starsky's wrists, cleaned the blood from them and looked again. 'Hm. These'll just need bandaging. The wounds aren't too deep, so I'll steri-strip 'em and bind them'. He looked next at Starsky's hand. Feeling around the protruding glass as Starsky winced and bit his lower lip, he muttered to himself. Picking up a syringe and a tiny bottle of fluid he crossed back to the brunette.
'I'll numb this, and then take out the glass. I'm afraid it's going to need stitching afterwards'. He glanced up at Starsky taking in the profusion of scars on his chest and arms. 'I can see you're no stranger to this procedure' he added with a grim smile.
'Occupational hazard' grunted Starsky, eyeing the needle. 'Still don't like needles though, so can we just get it done?' He looked away as the Doctor repeatedly pushed the needle into various sites around the wound infiltrating the margins of the wound with Novocaine.
'That should be it' the doctor said finally. Pushing the point of the needle into the palm of the detective's hand he asked 'Can you feel that?'
'Not a thing, thankfully'. Starsky remained quiet as the doctor extracted the glass and busied himself with sutures, gauze and tape. Satisfied finally that his patient was dealt with, he moved away to tidy up the room. Starsky looked down to see the bandages round his wrists and right hand, standing out bright white against his newly tanned skin. He chuckled. 'Well' he said, that's gonna put paid to an even tan'.
He levered himself off the table and nodded to Alex. 'Any news from your guys?'
The Bosun shook his head. 'They've done a preliminary search of all the decks, particularly deck seven, but nothing yet. You ready?'
The detective nodded and padded after the Bosun back up to the cabin to get dressed suitably to look for his friend.