My wristband nullified the signal to my body, but left me with a current through my body that I endured uncomfortably.
I saw them writhe in agony on the floor, even Mickey. They fell unconscious one by one. Finally I let up the buzz, and began to work. Walking out of the ship, I stowed the sled in the cargo hold. I swiped my card in the wall panel before liftoff, paying for the sled. Then closed the ship and took off. In the ship I pulled Mickey into the cockpit. It was easier after he had lost that weight. I filled the outer cabin with sleeping gas. We landed on a barren planet in the Kremlin stretch, where terra-forming had managed an atmosphere, but no water or plant life.
I drove the sled around the ship to the gangway, and got it as close to the hatch as possible, after which I dragged and kicked the bodies of the invaders onto the sled. Mickey I set up on the sofa. I knew that I had to get rid of them permanently. Once on the sled I tied them up well enough so they couldn't move once they woke up, and then drove the sled away from the ship.
Mickey had woken and was stumbling from the ship while I was dosing the captives in motor oil.
"What are you doing?" he asked, astonished.
"They came onto my ship, they attacked my man, they ruined my painting!" I cried out. "If they walk away from this, they could get others to do that again." Finished dousing them, I walked back to Mickey.
"They die" I said. "Or do you want to spare them?" He hesitated, and then shook his head.
"They would have killed us. I know one of them: I work against him. He's a drug lord himself. If he survived, it would get very dangerous" he looked at me.
"I'll do it" he said, eyes piercing me. "I don't want you to have their lives on your head." I stepped up beside him, handing him the lighter.
He took it, and slung an arm around my shoulders as he headed out to the sleigh. It might seem casual, but that blast had left him weak, and the easy arm was more for his support.
We reached the sled as the men began to wake up. They spluttered and strained. I felt like running away, or burying my face in Mickey's chest. It was easy to say they had to die, but I had wished they hadn't woken up. Now I had to face them. Mickey gave me a grave look, and tilted his head towards the ship. He was telling me to get back, to let him do it. I shook my head slightly, I couldn't back down. If by my planning these men died, it was their blood on my hands. I had to see this through; it was my deed, my sin.
"What is this?" the eldest demanded outraged.
"That would be motor oil" Mickey said in a friendly manner. They froze with looks of horror on their faces. Their eyes found the lighter in Mickey's hand.
"You don't have to do this" the one who had stared at my breasts begged. "We could go away, and leave your woman alone if you want. It could be like it never happened" his voice rose in the last bit, into a nasal whine, terrified.
Mickey simply shook his head, and the begging man wet himself.
"We didn't do anything!" one of those in the back called. "We simply followed orders! You could let us go!" he was clearly panicked and seemed quite willing to leave his master. I looked to Mickey.
"Just one couldn't hurt" I said softly to him alone, and from the corner of my eye I saw the man nod fervently.
Mickey pursed his lips, and then instead of answering lit the slide. The entire thing started burning and we pulled back fast, heading for the ship.
I felt the tears slide down my face. I had been a liar, a drug addict and at times a thief. Now I was a murderer too. We reached the ship quickly, both of us trying to tune out the screams. I had just come to the foot of the gangplank when the slide exploded. Fragments flew every which way, striking the hull and leaving dents. A piece came flying at us and knocked us over, leaving a deep cut in my calf.
I turned to see it bleeding freely, the serrated edge having cut the muscle. Mickey grabbed my arm and heaved me up into the ship.
He went straight to the box of medication, and pulled out a shot of anaesthesia, straight into my jugular. The pain zoned out within a few beats of my heart, but the bleeding didn't stop.
"Bathroom. I have a kit there" I gasped, trying to hold the cut closed with my hands, slipping on the blood.
I saw him plunge into my room, and then reappear momentarily with the kit. He grabbed a cloth and wiped the cut clean, and used a liquid that slowed the bleeding. Finally, he pulled out a strange metal device that I stared blankly at until he started to staple the cut together. I would have recoiled at the idea, if I hadn't just seen five men burn to death.
Finally Mickey bandaged the cut, closing it up tight and carried me to my bed. I started to zone out. I was unconscious when he came back to me, shaking me.
"Darlin, you have the cockpit locked. I need to get us out of here" I moaned at that and he picked me up.
I passed out again as he carried me across the main room, but woke up enough to mumble into the speaker so the door unlocked. He put me on the sofa this time, tucking me into the pillows and making a burrito out of me with the blanket.
I let my head loll against the pillows, not caring where we were going. I passed from the horror of consciousness to the torture of my dreams. I heard their screams, saw myself heave them onto that sleigh, and douse them. Why did I do that? I screamed at myself over and over. A gun, a simple gun. One to the temple each, like the do cattle. My internal voice laughed cruelly at my crumpled conscience, and my dreams morphed into a blend where I killed those men over and over again, each time differently, each time it left them screaming as they burnt, my hands covered in blood.
I woke again on the same sofa, the pain drugs wearing off. I felt the stabbing pain and welded my lips together. I heard Mickey's snore coming from the chair, and saw him sleeping there. I couldn't say anything, couldn't scream.
I didn't want him to wake up, I wanted to be alone. I felt my eyes build up with tears. I began to wish none of this had happened. That I hadn't messed my life up like this.
If only I had pushed him away I thought, with perfect sarcastic hindsight. There is nothing worth this mess. I knew that when I stared, I knew that it would all go wrong. I wanted to be alone, all alone on my ship, painting my wall. I wanted to be as if I had never heard of Turnsbourne, as if none of this had happened. I could have been at my sister's now, or maybe sitting in Connor's workshop, easy, not a care in the world, the drugs I took to be the worst thing in my life.
I snorted softly to myself. I got clean of my drugs just in time to kill. I never thought my life would be worse when I got clean.
I lay for a long time, guilt flowing into self pity into self loathing into depression into guilt as my brain cycled around what had happened and I tried every way I could to avoid dealing with it.
Finally I sank into exhaustion deeper than any before, and I simply lay and stared at the wall with blank eyes, enduring the mounting pain from my leg as punishment.
Mickey woke with a start, and looked over at me. It took only a glance at my face to have him fling himself to his knees my side.
"Darlin" he said, shaking me slightly. "Wake up"
"I am awake" I mumbled, still not looking at him.
"No you're not, you're in shock"
I looked at him slowly, turning first my eyes and when I couldn't see him properly, turned my head slowly.
"I guess I am" I agreed.
"Does your leg hurt?"
I didn't answer, and he shook me slightly again before pulling back the covers to have a look at my leg.
"By all hells!" he swore. "It's swollen. And inflamed. Why didn't you wake me, girl?"
"I deserve it" I mumbled, and he glared at me.
"No, you don't. Don't you dare go thinking down that path" he threatened. "Don't let it turn inwards"
"Too late"
He frowned, and then turned to my leg. Drawing the kit up again, he began to unwrap the bandages. I didn't bother follow any more because lifting my head hurt my neck, and I realized I didn't care.
"This is bad" Mickey said softly as he worked.
"Am I going to lose it?" I asked, not caring either way.
"Of course not!" he said, angry. "You will have a limp for a while, but it's a good thing I woke up when I did"
I let myself sink back into the pillows, discovering that I was actually mildly disappointed. I wouldn't have minded loosing the leg, considering.
It did register that I was in shock, but that didn't matter to me. I couldn't care less about such pronouncements. I was more interested in the idea of giving up my leg. It seemed like such good way to start repaying for the lives I had just taken.
That I had to repay that was not a question, I was a trader; things in my books had to balance out. Now I was in the red. I felt the metaphor almost swallow me up, so far into the red…
I tried to shake my head free, but could barely move it. "So tired" I whispered. Mickey looked at me, suspiciously.
"You're not going to give up on life now, are you?" he asked, on edge fearing my answer. I shook my head again.
"I have too much to pay." I said, using the analogy. "I have to balance it out, I have to pay it back" his eyes softened, and he leaned over to kiss my forehead.
"You will. You'll find a way to make it all alright again" he said. "Just stay alive, okay? For me?"
"Okay"