Hey yall! Long time now write! Sorry I had to have Sirocco take over postage for a bit, but I've had tonnes of problems with my computer, but now I have a new one so it's all systems go again!!

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"Hey Redlegs," said Yelena, to a tall, scruffy ginger man coiling a line, "have you seen Van Müller around?"

Redlegs turned round at the sound of her voice, and jumped back slightly at the sight of Mulder.

Yelena sniggered. "Oh, don't mind him. He's new."

A knowing smile passed across Redlegs' weather-beaten face. "Van Müller did you say?" - Yelena nodded. - "Not sure, last time I saw him he was going below. Can't say where he is now."

Yelena looked towards the stairs leading down beneath the deck, and shrugged.

"Well, one way to find out. Come on." She grabbed Mulder's sleeve and pulled him along. He stumbled slightly trying to keep up with her. She cast a cautious glance around the dark interior before proceeding. The level below the main deck was dingy and dusty; Mulder's eyes failed to adjust after the bright sunlight outside. He heard laughter from somewhere in a corner, and shook his sleeve free of Yelena's grasp indignantly. He had, however, overestimated his ability to find his way independently, and a few seconds later couldn't help but rush forward and grab onto her sleeve. She didn't turn, but grinned to herself.

Her pace was swift and self-assured, though she still glanced cautiously round several corners before turning them.

"Where the hell are we going?" Coughed Mulder, as they descended further into the bowels of the ship and the air thickened.

"I'm pretty sure I know where Van Müller went. He's been made a navigator but his friends weren't quite so lucky."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Yelena said nothing, only looked at him over her shoulder with raised eyebrows and an expression that said 'see for yourself'.

Mulder gazed past her and saw what could only be described as a set of primitive jail cells. Three men were inside one, and were currently huddled close to the bars where a fourth man stood on the outside. They were talking in a low whisper, obviously fearful of discovery.

"That would be the brig," Yelena explained in a whisper.

One of the men incarcerated behind the bars glanced over, suddenly noticing Mulder and Yelena. His eyes grew wide and he gestured, alerting the other men to their presence.

"What is this, a prison?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"Well… it's close enough, I guess."

"Who are you?" the one Mulder could only assume was Van Müller asked, peering at them. They took a step forward. "Is that you 

Yelena?"

"Yea it's me. I have someone here who would like to talk to you."

Van Müller eyes Mulder cautiously.

"What for?"

"Fernand Van Müller?" Asked Mulder, approaching him. He was asking more out of courtesy than anything else; he was already certain he had the right man.

Van Müller nodded. "Yes, yes that's me. Who wants to know?"

"My name is Fox Mulder, I'm with the FBI. I got here somehow while I was investigating your disappearance from Haiti, the Atrius Institute."

The Austrian stared at him, wide-eyed.

"FBI? But…what? I don't…how did you find me here?"

Mulder chuckled. "Well, I dunno, you tell me. Luck?" This new development had revived his spirits – he was starting to see the world through light-hearted eyes again.

"Well, I- I mean, we," started Van Müller, gesturing to those in the cell, "have no idea what happened either."

"I'm assuming that means you fellows are David Benson, Ken Stewart and Edward Bosworth?" All three men nodded as Mulder said their names. "From what I've managed to piece together, you were conducting space-time experiments at the Atrius Institute. I'm guessing they were successful. I'm also guessing that, somehow or another you guys, along with Maria Rodriguez and Bette Wolfe, managed to get yourself sucked through here, in pretty much the same manner as my partner and I."

"That's right," Benson cut in. He had tousled hair and looked jumpy. "We don't know what went wrong, me and Ken were just there one minute and gone the next! We, uh, we found these guys," – here he made a jerking motion with his arm – "once we'd already got here. I guess you could say we bonded pretty quickly, y'know, when we realized it'd happened to all of us."

"What about Maria Rodriguez and Bette Wolfe? " Mulder asked. "What happened to them?"

He shrugged. "No idea. We never saw them. Didn't know they were missing as well 'til you said it just then."

Mulder rolled his eyes, cursing silently. Great. Of course you've never heard of them. That would make my job far too easy.

"Hey," Bosworth interjected, a hopeful look on his face, "don't suppose there's any chance of you getting us out of here is there?"

Yelena, who was leaning casually against the iron grating, eyed him. "There's not much chance of that, amigo mío – for now he's just as much a prisoner as you."

"Speaking of which, what are you doing in the – what's this called? The brig?" Inquired Mulder.

Bosworth shot Benson a glance with the distinct remnants of an irritation which he had not yet managed to suppress. "Well, 

Dave thought…"

"I thought there might be some chance of us getting back to America," Benson took over, "so I was asking around if anyone knew how to get us back, and… Well, I started saying there'd probably be some reward money in it, like, from my company or somethin' – I only meant me, you know, I wasn't trying to get the others into trouble – and then the captain took it a little too seriously I guess. He, uh, I think he's expecting to try and ransom us or something, God only knows what these Spaniards come up with-"

Yelena's head tilted, her eyebrows shooting up.

"Uh, in case you're forgetting, muchacho, this Spaniard's on your side. So I'd learn when to shut your mouth."

Benson blinked nervously and twitched. "I'm, um, I'm sorry, I…" He was so on edge he was almost about to fall right off.

"Hey, it's okay," said Mulder, stepping in to try and stop Benson from having a nervous breakdown. He raised his hands diplomatically and looked between the two parties. "She knows you didn't mean anything by it, right Yelena?"

"Oh, no, of course not," she replied, before turning away and muttering something in Spanish. The only recognizable word was 'cabrón'; Mulder wasn't sure what it meant but he knew it couldn't have been polite judging from her tone of voice.

Mulder decided to try and steer the conversation back on track with as much speed as possible.

"So, do you have any idea at all how we might be able to get back?"

The three in the cell looked at Van Müller, who was twisting his fingers and furrowing his brow anxiously.

"Well, I do have a theory, I've been working on it for a while. You see, mein Herr, the captain has a key…"

At that very moment, a sound like a roll of thunder came booming down the narrow stairwell.

Yelena's eyes ignited. "Mierda!" She seized Mulder's arm, "Vamos!" They set off at a run down the aisle between the cells, but had only covered a few meters when a hand grabbed Mulder by the scruff of the neck, yanking him backwards. The voice of retribution resounded with a deafening rumble.

"So! Disobeying me again, are we?" Mulder found himself flat on his back, a heavy boot on his chest. Gillpoyo's eyes blazed through the darkness. "Maybe I should have taught you a harsher lesson earlier." Moving his foot, he stamped on Mulder's stomach. Mulder howled in pain, trying to grit his teeth. Yelena jumped forward, but was back-handed with a ferocity that sent her flying backwards into the iron bars, knocking her clean unconscious.

As Mulder stared upwards, a familiar face leant over him.

"…Halcón?" He murmured. A sharp sting tore across his cheek as Halcón struck him.

"It is Captain Halcón to you." He paused. "And do not speak until you are spoken to." He nodded to Gillpoyo, who raised 

his boot again, this time bringing it down along the side of Mulder's head. The captain's face remained expressionless. "I left discipline to you, Gillpoyo. You have not, it seems, succeeded. Correct that." He looked down one last time at Mulder, as though contemplating dispensing justice himself, but instead drew in a haughty breath and strutted back up the stairs.

As soon as he was out of sight, Gillpoyo wrenched Mulder to his feet and smashed him onto the bars. The three inside shrank back, terrified. "Humiliate me in front of the captain, will you?" He snarled, before pulling back an arm and driving it with all his might into the pit of Mulder's stomach. His victim doubled over, but was pulled upright again immediately to receive the second powerful blow. "I won't be letting that happen again." Several more punches followed before he allowed Mulder to drop to the floor, feebly clutching his stomach and coughing up blood. The onlookers turned away as Gillpoyo cracked his knuckles, but he only said:

"Back on deck in 5 minutes, you rat. If you're not there I'll come looking for you, and believe me that's the last thing you want." He was panting from the exertion and stepped back, thinking his anger had been dispersed. But Mulder, even now still not accustomed to authority, couldn't resist having the last word. He raised his head as far as he could and attempted to focus on the officer, blood dribbling down his chin.

"Well, I'm sure you could do with the exercise." The reply he received was a sharp kick in the head, knocking him into oblivion.

Van Müller, who had been gradually shrinking further and further away from the grim spectacle, was the last to be dealt with. Gillpoyo viciously snatched his arm and threw him towards the stairs.

"Back on deck, you! Don't think you're getting off any more lightly!"

And he pushed the last offender up the steps.

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