AN: Hi!
So, you see, it seems that I can only actually write stuff if there's a christmas tree in the room. Odd, huh? Let's see if I can get this story finished in the next couple of weeks.
UPDATE: I didn't realise were editing out my scene breaks. Why do they do that, anyway?
The Princess of the Tamaraneans tugged hopelessly at the heavy metal restraints that completely encased her hands, to no avail.
Hopeless. That pretty much summed it up.
She lifted her arms to her face, using the restraints to knock her crown to the floor. It was ex-Princess now, anyway. Citadelian Slave would be her new status (if it could be said to be a status at all), but that's not what they'd call her. They'd call her Troq. Technically it meant the same thing, but it was the difference between calling someone a female dog and calling them a bitch. The subtle nuances of language were odd, particularly on a galactic scale. As the heir to the throne, Koriand'r had been taught all twelve galactic standard languages, even though she only had the physical capability to speak nine of them. Most of them were the languages of the main species that inhabited the galaxy, one created specifically to be a 'Galactic Standard' language although that idea never really took off, and the odd one out, English. Apparently it originated in a small country on a backwater planet, on the very fringes of the galaxy. The inhabitants hadn't even explored their own star system yet, never mind the galaxy, so no one could quite figure out why it had a place in the galactic standard. But it was, so she knew it. A couple of the languages were now largely defunct as the races that spawned them had been destroyed, either by war or by nature.
There was always a war going on in the galaxy. Of the nine species currently considered to be superpowers, only three of them were not at war with anyone. Some of the other six were at war with most of the other five.
Koriand'r then realised that those numbers weren't quite true. The newly formed peace treaty between the Tamaraneans and the Gordanians, the one that had changed her life forever, meant that the Gordanians were no longer at war with anyone. The Tamaraneans, however, would still be at war with the Blacktrinians. But then, when weren't they?
She kicked out at the force-field that blocked her exit. Her royal blood meant she could not be dumped in the usual cells used for prisoner transport, oh no, they had to take extra special care of her. As soon as the transfer was made they had clamped the shackles on her, effectively neutralising her powers. On top of that, they had quickly shepherded her into a closet-sized container, immediately activating the force-field that covered the entrance. Then they had placed it in the centre of the bridge.
So she would have a nice view, they said.
Because they feared her, they meant.
Which wasn't without cause, she had to admit. If they had placed her in the normal cells she would have broken out as soon as possible, shackles or no. But this damn force field took that option away from her. There was nothing she could do.
She leaned against the back wall and slid down to the floor, burying her head in her arms. She was suppose to marry a dashing Prince, ascend the throne of Tamaran, rule wisely and justly, smiting all those who compromised their peace. Not…this. Not slavery. Not a life of degradation and humiliation, far from home and safety and loved ones. Her instincts cried out for her to fight back, defeat her captors and win her freedom.
But she couldn't. They had her well wrapped up in her little box, a nice present for the Citadel. The despair welled inside of her.
Something impacted on one of the walls and she jumped, eyes wildly looking for the source.
"Just making sure you're still alive," one of the guards snarled in his native tongue, a lecherous grin on his face. "Wouldn't want to lose you before we made it home."
She glared at him.
At that moment the entire spaceship shook, warning lights flashing and klaxons sounding mere moments later.
"What the hell was that?!" the captain shouted, striding into view to take up a position directly in front of Koriand'r, although facing away from her.
"Sir, we're being hailed," one of the others said. The captain nodded, and the main screen turned on. Koriand'r heard a gasp as the visuals came through, but there were too many bodies between her and the screen for her to see.
"Greetings, Gordanian vessel!" They used Galactic Standard tongue. No clues there, then. "We have fired a warning shot. Would you mind telling us what you are doing in Blacktrinian territory without proper clearance?"
Suddenly, Koriand'r knew what the cause for alarm was. Blacktrinians were often called Black Holes by the other star faring races, partly because of their abilities to cause mass destruction, but mostly because of a well known fact: craft that entered Blacktrinian space without authorisation were never seen again.
"With all due respect, section 141.6 of the delta quadrant is Gordanian territory, not Blacktrinian," the Captain responded.
"As of roughly twenty minutes ago, sections 141.1 through 141.7 passed over to Blacktrinian control. Official verification follows."
The captain moved over to a small monitor on the desk in front of him, allowing Koriand'r her first glimpse at the main screen. Two Blacktrinian officers were visible, their blue-on-black eyes set in widely grinning pale faces more than a little disquieting.
"My most sincere apologies," the captain said as he looked up from the monitor. "We have not been in contact with other Gordanian vessels since 0930 galactic time. We were unaware of our transgression."
It seemed that every person on the bridge was holding their breath waiting for the Blacktrinian response, including Koriand'r.
"I believe you."
A huge wave of relief passed across the room.
"That's why I'm going to give you to the count of ten to get your ugly, green, scale-covered haunches out of our territory before I pump your ship full of little yellow bolts of light."
The captain swore.
"One!"
"Get us out of here, full speed!"
"Two!"
"Do it now!"
"Ten!" The mad laughter of the Blacktrinian could be heard in the background, and the ship pulled around and accelerated. Not fast enough, though. Numerous impacts rocked the ship, sending guards and captor alike flying off their feet. Koriand'r supposed she should be glad that she didn't have as far to fall, slamming into one of the walls. She took the time to brace herself against said wall, hopefully preventing a repetition.
"Situation report!" the captain bellowed, pulling himself to his feet at the console.
"The main drive took a direct hit, sir! The resultant power surge gave a massive burst of speed before it fried the circuits. We're now well outside Blacktrinian territory and moving as fast as normally possible. Unfortunately, with the main drive out, we have no way to slow down. Hull breaches were reported but have been sealed. Life support systems are currently offline."
"Get a team working on the life support, and everyone else on the main drive," he commanded. "I want our current position and probable trajectory on the main screen, now."
A couple of the Gordanians scurried away, and Koriand'r was left with a reasonable view of the screen. Shortly, an image appeared on it showing that the vessel was on its way out of the galaxy, and heading there quickly. The captain studied the screen closely for a moment.
"We'll be passing through a star system soon. We need to use the manoeuvring thrusters to change our trajectory so that we slingshot around the gas giant, leeching off momentum. That should slow us down. Get the course plotted, and call me back to the bridge when you've done so." He strode out of sight.
Koriand'r had little to do but study the image on the screen. Eight planets, with a number of smaller bodies orbiting the sun at greater distances, and an asteroid belt between the fourth and fifth planets. It looked vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn't put a name to it. The gas giant they would be using was the fifth planet, and the largest in the system.
After a thorough examination of the map she had little else to do, and time passed slowly, marked only by the creeping of the green triangle on the image growing closer to the cluster of planets. She assumed they were the green triangle. After a while, the captain returned to the bridge.
"Sir, we have finished our calculations and believe that the slingshot will be possible, but we will need to push the thrusters beyond their normal capabilities. There's a chance we may lose them," one of the other officers reported.
"Do it anyway," the captain said. Those on the bridge turned to their stations and immediately began to work. The firing of the thrusters could be heard through the hull, although inertial dampeners prevented any sense of motion being felt.
"Course correction underway," an officer needlessly announced.
As the seconds passed time seemed to slow, and everyone on the bridge could do nothing but wait. The noise of the thrusters cutting in and out was all that filled the silence.
"Course correction complete in five…four…three…two…one…." The thrusters could be heard giving one last spurt before dying out.
The silence extended for a few more seconds.
"Get me our projected trajectory," the captain barked out.
"Yes sir!"
Some of the officers went to work at their consoles and it wasn't long before the image on the screen was updated.
The captain groaned.
While it seemed that the slingshot had successfully reduced their velocity it had also flung them head first at the third planet.
"Did we lose the thrusters?" The captain asked.
"Yes sir."
"How long before the main drive can be repaired?"
"About an hour, sir."
They had, at best, five minutes.
Koriand'r watched as her captors tried everything they could think of to change course. She was faintly amused at this turn of events; there she was, despairing about how hopeless her situation was and how she could never escape it, and before she even arrives she is given an out. Although death was not exactly the kind of escape she had envisaged.
After a few minutes of frantic action, the captain had stopped and was staring at the screen. Eventually he must have come to a decision, as he spoke again.
"Begin separation procedures for the bridge."
Koriand'r's eyes widened.
"But sir, the crew!"
"There's no time to wait for them to arrive. We have to separate. NOW!"
Gordanian spacecraft were known to have a bridge that was capable of separating from the main ship and becoming a vessel in its own right. They were not suited for interstellar travel but were quite capable of navigating to the nearest planet. It usually served as a high tech escape pod.
If they separated from the main vessel they would at least be able to manoeuvre, and even if they couldn't escape the gravity well of the planet they would be able to control the entry into the atmosphere. Most of the crew were elsewhere on the ship though, and with no thrusters at all it would be completely destroyed. But it seemed the captain was willing to live with that.
The lucky few who were on the bridge went back to work and announced the separation successful. They did what little they could to change the course of their new, smaller craft, but were unable to avoid the planet.
Koriand'r closed her eyes and once again braced herself against the walls as the ship began to shake, indicating they were entering the planet's atmosphere. The voices of the crew members were shouting back and forward but she wasn't paying attention.
"X'hal," she asked quietly, but did not pray further.
Gradually the shaking lessened but the voices of the crew were just as frantic. Something about too much speed, being hit by debris from the other vessel, and the wrong angle for entry.
She got the idea though. They were going to crash.
Even with advanced warning the impact was severe, and when they hit the ground she was thrown hard against the wall of her little box. Nothing they had been through so far compared to this – out on the bridge consoles were exploding, gas was erupting from somewhere, and various bodies were flying through the air. Not to mention the shaking. It felt like the whole world was shaking.
It went on for so long she thought it would never end, but eventually the ship was still. Apparently, she had survived. She wondered what the Blacktrinians would say if they knew what their parting shot had caused.
-x-x-x-
The Blacktrinian commander finally took his eyes off of the long range scanners and clapped his lieutenant on the shoulder.
"A fantastic shot! Managing to hit such a small planetary body at this range, simply brilliant. What's that, a three?"
"Four, sir," the lieutenant replied.
"Four under par," the commander said. He looked up at the Blacktrinian Golf league table on the back wall of the bridge, and he grinned. "That puts us straight to the top!"
-x-x-x-
Koriand'r opened her eyes and looked out onto the damaged remains of what had once been the bridge. The lights were out and only occasional sparks lit the room, but there was one thing she knew for sure: the force field was still up.
"AHHHHHH!" she screamed in rage, throwing her body against the unyielding light. Hit by Blacktrinian weapons fire, slinging around a gas giant, crashing into a planet – and the damn thing still wouldn't let her out?!
She crashed back against the wall, panting for breath. It obviously must be on some kind of private power supply, otherwise it would have gone out with the lights. There was nothing she could do about it.
In the occasional sparks of light from damaged consoles, she could see the prone forms of various Gordanians. None of them were moving. There had been about eight on the bridge when it separated and she would be surprised if at least one of them hadn't survived, but none of them were currently conscious.
Koriand'r sighed and sat down, resigned to waiting.
She was surprised when, only a few minutes later, a loud screeching noise preceded a shaft of light beaming into the room. She couldn't see where the light was coming from but the sound of strange voices filtered through to her, and she realised that help had arrived.
She was yet more surprised to discover that the voices were not as strange as she was expecting. The language they were speaking was familiar to her. The image of the star system resurfaced and she was finally able to recognise it – this was the out of the way, backwater system that the language known as English had come from. Why fate had chosen to put her on this one planet in a million where there were not only people but ones she could communicate with, she did not dare to guess. Suddenly life was getting a lot brighter.
These thoughts were accompanied by the shaft of light widening, and then being occluded by the shadow of a being. It seemed to be a biped like her but was covered in strange clothing from head to toe, disguising the rest of its appearance. It moved swiftly into the room and started investigating, a long metallic object in its hands providing light.
"Greetings," she said quietly, desperately wishing she had had more practice with the language. The figure spun around to face her, the light shining in her eyes so that she moved a hand to block it. It took a tentative step towards her.
"My name is…" and she translated it quickly, "…Starfire. I was imprisoned by these creatures and cannot escape. I mean you no harm and would be grateful of assistance. The controls for the force field should be on the panel, there." She gestured around the side of her cage.
The figure did not respond, instead moving forward and gently tapping at the force field. She worried that it could not understand her – perhaps her accent was incomprehensible to it – but then it moved to the control panel and the force field flickered off.
"Thank you so much!" She rushed of her prison, wishing that her hands were unbound so that she could hug her saviour, but then she halted. Something sharp had pricked her skin.
Looking down, she saw something that resembled a primitive dart embedded in her shoulder.
"What is…" she looked back up again, in time to see two more darts flying from the object in the figure's hands.
It wasn't just a light, it was a weapon. Righteous anger swelled up in her but before she could attack her foe her strength failed her and she stumbled, before collapsing to the ground.
"We've definitely got a live one," she heard the figure say, before she passed out.
-x-x-x-
A loud clanging noise startled her awake.
She opened her eyes to find herself in another cell. Dim light filtered in from some holes in the wall, illuminating a somewhat cramped space not much bigger than the cage she had just left. She was lying on the ground but could not stretch out, her knees bent slightly. Its ceiling was low enough that she wasn't sure she could stand up straight. What was the saying? Out of the frying pan, into the fire?
Or perhaps not. Perhaps, this time, it was out of the frying pan, into the still slightly glowing embers of what was once a fire.
The fools had locked her in an ordinary cage.
Still, they were not complete fools. They had left her hands bound by the Gordanian device. She pulled herself upright but quickly leaned back against one of the walls, her head spinning. Whatever drugs they had used on her had obviously not worn off yet. She kicked out at the door to test her current strength against it. It shuddered, but made no signs of opening.
Starfire settled back down to the ground, content to wait a while and allow her strength to return. She turned her attention to the contrivance that bound her hands. If she could only remove it, she would again have the use of her starbolts. The smooth walls of the Gordanian prison had offered no opportunities, but here there were many nuts and bolts protruding out, giving her something to work with. She found a likely spot on her handcuffs that would likely pull back to reveal the circuits beneath and hooked the corner of a bolt around it.
She spent the next half an hour working it back and forth, attempting to loosen the covering. Finally, shifted the angle and pulled on it as hard as she could. She heard a snap and the cover suddenly went flying off. Unfortunately, this meant her hands were no longer pulling on anything, and they jerked backwards to hit her in the face.
Well, at least she would…not be able to free herself. The sheet of metal she had been working on for half an hour to remove did not, as she had suspected, cover the inner workings of the handcuffs. It simply covered more metal. And on top of that, her nose was sore.
She swore loudly and violently, using several words no Princess of Tamaran should know. Her sister's influence, no doubt.
The frustration of the whole situation was bearing down on her now, and she kept up her swearing, letting it build her rage. She began thumping her covered hands against the door. She was less woozy now and she could see some dents appearing in the metal. She would break through. No mere box of metal could hold Koriand'r of the Tamaraneans.
She stepped as far away from the door as she could, the awkward semi-crouch she had to adopt hampering her slightly. But she could use that too, her anger at everything she had been subjected to transformed into strength, and she flung herself with everything she had at the door that barred her exit.
And then yelped in surprise when it was thrown open a split second before she reached it. She barrelled into a mass of green and red and tumbled to the ground.
She found herself lying on top of a boy who looked roughly the same age as her, and just about as startled.
"Um…good day, sir?" she ventured.
"…Hi," he responded.
There was a slight pause where it seemed they decided not to try and kill each other, and then there were people around them helping to pull them to their feet. She found herself in a long corridor, several other doors that looked like the one she had been attempting to break down lining the walls. There seemed to be a number of other brightly clad teens with them.
"I'm Robin," the boy said. "We're currently trying to break out of here. Want to come?"
Again she felt herself wishing her hands were unbound so she could hug someone. She settled for smiling brightly instead.
"I would love to!"
He smiled back at her.
"The more, the merrier. Come on, the others are back this way. What's your name?"
"I am Starfire of the planet Tamaran. I was held prisoner by a race known as Gordanians…." She told him her story as they walked, and he introduced her to the other members of the group. They turned into a room where an even larger group of teens, and as she was being introduced to them all, the green one known as Beast Boy was telling some of the others about how they had found her.
"So I was the one brave enough to pull the door open, and she was so happy to be finally free that she came rushing out and she thought Robin was the one who rescued her so she jumped on him and she kissed him—"
"She did not. That did not happen. They just fell over." Coatl interrupted.
"Fell over? Then how do you explain her suddenly speaking English?"
"She might have been able to speak it – wait. Did you just insinuate that she learned English by kissing him?"
"Yeah! DNA transfer! It's the only explanation!"
"That is the single most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, and I spent five days locked up in a cell next to you."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
Starfire looked past the quarrelling pair (which became a trio as Cyborg joined in, sharing his own theories on genetic memory and linguistic learning via the mingling of bodily fluids) as Robin pointed out two more people, one called Leo Knight and the other called Neuroa.
"You're sure you can't find her? Can't you try harder?" Knight's voice was tinged with desperation.
"As I am sure you are aware, our powers have still not returned to full strength. Even if they were…it seems as if something is blocking my attempts to find her."
Robin continued around the group.
"…Bloodborne, Sean, Phaeism, Fiona, Zach…um…Metatron…"
Robin was obviously taken aback by the half-demon's current behaviour.
"Oh, I missed you so much, I thought you were gone forever, my life would never be the same again! No one can love you as I love you! We will be together forever!" Metatron was professing his undying love for a ball of string, while tossing it in the air and catching it again. But as they watched he fumbled a catch and the ball went bouncing past them.
"YARN!" Metatron yelled, and dived after it.
Starfire turned to Robin, who had a somewhat bemused expression on his face.
"Was that one of your customs?"
"Not one I've ever heard of."
Robin finished the introductions and called the group to order, trying to ignore the fact that Metatron was now happily entangled in his ball of yarn.
"Okay, we really need to set off. We've wasted more time than I wanted to, we can't expect our captors to do the same. Everyone, arrange yourselves as I said before – no powers at the centre, then defensive, then long range, then short range. I have something I need to do, so I will be at the centre as well, along with our new friend. Cyborg will take my place at the front, Raven, you take Cyborg's place at the rear."
They waited a few moments for the group organise itself, and then Robin spoke again.
"Okay, people. Move out."
Everyone headed out the door and turned down the corridor where Starfire's cell had been. Robin pulled something from his belt and held his hands out to Starfire.
"Let's see if we can get those cuffs off you." He smiled at her.
She felt her eyes filling with water as she offered him her bound wrists. After the less than friendly welcome she had received from the soldier she had begun to despair again, wondering if she would find any help at all on this planet. But here was a boy who had shown her nothing but kindness, and his friends had accepted her into the group without a second thought. She wanted to hug the lot of them.
He tinkered with the device as they walked. Cyborg seemed to be making good decisions when the corridor split off into different paths, as they only met a dead end once. After about ten minutes of walking, they passed through a set of doors and emerged into a large open room. It was about the size of the gym hall, and all along the sides there were other doors, all of them closed. At one end of the room were stacks of equipment. Some of the equipment was easy to identify; there was a rather obvious weight machine sitting in the corner, a pile of weights beside it. For most of them, however, the functions remained unknown. At the other end of the room was a large set of double doors, much larger than any others.
The group had slowed to a halt once they had entered the room. Robin called Cyborg and Raven over to him.
"Any problems, Cyborg?"
"None," the older teen replied, shaking his head. "It's a bit suspicious, really. I was using a radar to scout ahead and see what corridors were dead ends, but even so, I thought we'd have at least met a few scientists down here."
"There's no sign of pursuit either," said Raven. "They might have waited for the holding cells to clear of gas, but they would have been as well to send the soldiers through with gas masks."
"That does seem suspicious, but there's nothing we can do about it." Robin turned his attention to the room they were in. "Those doors at the end look like the way out. Cyborg, see if you can get them open."
The whole group moved over to the doors as Cyborg tried the access panel. Robin was still working on removing Starfire's handcuffs.
"Nearly there," he said, smiling up at her.
"Good," Cyborg replied, "because I'm not sure how to open these doors. I might need your help."
"You need a code to open the doors," said a voice from behind them.
Robin spun around immediately, drawing his bo staff as he did so. Behind them stood a young man dressed in a red and black outfit with bright red, spiky hair.
"Do you know the code?" Robin asked.
"Yes. But to give it to you would be to allow you to escape, which I cannot do." As he said this, more people were coming out of the side doors. They were all dressed similarly to the first man. Each of them was wearing a skin tight red suit with a black stripe running from mid-thigh to mid-chest on both sides. Each suit had a high black collar, and they were all wearing black gloves and boots. There were differences however; the first man to appear was wearing a long black cape; others were clearly armoured and many were wearing masks.
When they stopped coming through the doors and arranged themselves across from Robin's group, Starfire managed to count sixteen of them. Not one looked to be over the age of twenty.
"You are Robin?" the man, who seemed to be their leader, asked.
Robin looked to be thinking furiously and it took a moment for him to respond.
"Yes."
"I am Typhoon."
At that point, Starfire heard another voice, but it seemed to be inside her head.
"Everyone, this is Robin, via Neuroa. These guys have obviously been training together so if we're going to beat them you need to do exactly as I say without question. Human Shield, take Sean, Fiona, and Zach, as well as Starfire, and make sure nothing gets to them. Soul, I want you to hang back until someone is hurt. I need someone with good defensive AND movement abilities to stay with Soul, guard him if need be, and move him quickly to injured people."
There was a pause and Starfire assumed people were responding.
"Karen?Karen?!" Leo Knight's face looked stricken as he finally spotted his sister garbed in the red and black of Raincoat, with a bird-like mask obscuring half of her face, and feathered wings furled behind her.
"I go by Zhar-Ptitsa now, brother."
"What is it with you people and unpronounceable names?" Beast Boy moaned.
Zhar-Ptitsa looked at the young boy imperiously. "It's Zhara for short," she added.
"Slyde, you're only good for movement, not defence."
"You don't honestly expect to beat us, do you?" Typhoon asked.
"Okay Solenoid, you get Soul. Raven…"
"I never plan to lose." Robin responded. Starfire was amazed that he could be planning a battle strategy and organising his team, talking to them telepathically, and at the same time convincingly carry out a conversation.
"Okay Raven, find it as soon as possible. I want flyers in the air if you can attack from there. Everyone else, find someone you're strong against. Neuroa, hang back, try and stay close to Human Shield. Watch the fight. If anyone is in trouble, send back up. Everyone, I want non-lethal attacks only. WAIT FOR MY SIGNAL."
The group was shuffling, as some people moved to the back and others to the front.
Typhoon had not taken his eyes off of Robin's.
"Does your…team…have a name?" A slight hesitation indicated how much contempt Typhoon had for the group before him.
"I guess we're the Titans." Robin replied.
"Dude, you can't just name us!" Beast Boy cried out.
"Well then, Teen Titans, I believe that makes us the Olympians."
"Titans," Robin shouted. "GO!"
AN: For a list of the authors who graciously donated their characters, see the previous chapter. Also, the Blacktrinians are kindly on loan from Jedi-And.
Funny story: what you see here has actually been done for quite a while, but my original intention was to finish the chapter a little bit later in the story. Despite having this bit sitting on my hard drive for most of the year I didn't decide to post it until I started working on the story again and realised how long the next bit is going to be.
Expect the next chapter some time soon.
