Sergeant Mercedes Jones had one rule for her soldiers: Look out for each other.
Of course, she said it in a million different ways, and with a million different techniques, but the idea was the same. Look out for the person beside you, and they'll look out for you. And when the chips were down, that's all you could depend on. The feeling extended outward to all of their fellow Browncoats, but there was a limit, and Corporal Madison McCarthy never forgot that. This is the reason she found it so strange that Sarge had sent them out to do a sweep for survivors. Not that they wouldn't want to help their comrades in arms, but with things as crazy as they were she wouldn't have thought her CO would want them out there in all the pandemonium.
They had been marched all morning, leaving one front for the next, only to find their ranks in shambles and the enemy long gone, replaced with air support. They'd hunkered down, but Sarge had gotten tired of the waiting and asked for volunteers for searchers, a job that she would take the lead on. Her brother, Mason, hadn't wasted any time volunteering. He was always looking for ways to make a good impression. Sarge hated it, called it brown nosing, and said she had no time for it. And, of course, Madison had volunteered as well, because she certainly couldn't have him traipsing off into unknown territory on his own.
The air was almost electric, and Madison could feel Mason almost vibrating with excitement as they walked the young private Wilde back to where the Balls and Bayonets (the nickname for their squad) had set up shop. But she didn't share any of his enthusiasm. This was still a war, and in war, anything could go wrong. She always tried to remember that, and kept her ear out for any sounds in the horizon. For the last few minutes there had been shelling a few clicks south of where they were, and in the direction that they came from. Madison could see the smoldering ruin that was left once a missile found its target. The Alliance forces had to be shooting at random. There were no big clumps of soldiers to fire at anymore. They had all scattered once the main fighting was over. There were only the stragglers, and Madison couldn't have imagined what type of monsters would be playing target practice with retreating soldiers. No matter what side they were on. As the shelling started again, closer this time, she shuddered and urged her brother to walk faster.
She didn't know what to think of Private Wilde. She was obviously separated from her fellow soldiers, but as far as Madison knew, Company C had been obliterated beyond almost all recognition. How had she gotten away practically unscathed? As far as Madison could tell, the only injuries she had sustained were from her fall. Madison had seen the piece of metal, shining brightly where it was stained with blood, when she had hoisted the young soldier onto the gurney. She had a lot of questions but she held them. Sarge would know exactly what to say and how to say it, they only had to reach her.
They were almost to the rest of the group, maybe only a few kilometers away, when she felt it. At first it was a low rumbling, a deep bass sound that she could feel in her chest. She almost ignored it. She would have completely, if she hadn't heard the sound of the Sarge echoing through her memory.
"Ultrasonic frequencies, cadet! Very low, very powerful! You'll feel it in your spirit!" Sergeant Jones would slap her hard in the chest at this point, and Madison would do her best to hold the gaze. "Then you'd better move like hell, cause your time on this plane is running out."
The rumble, which was increasing in volume, shook Madison back to the present and she stopped in her tracks.
"什么-" Mason started, but she cut him off.
"Missiles incoming. DEWS. " She said quickly, as her eyes scanned the horizon.
She didn't wait another moment before she was dragging ahead of Mason and headed towards an outcropping of stone and debris. She'd been doing as Sarge taught her, looking as she walked for places to hide, should that become necessary. And she knew where she wanted to go, and was moving in that direction even before her brain fully caught up.
"This way."
Luckily, Mason was good at following orders and fell into step behind her. They dashed for the outcropping as the low drone became a high pitched whine. She continued repeating the words to herself like a mantra.
"It's just target practice, they don't know we're here. They don't know where we are."
Between the two of them, they managed to roll the Private off the sling and under the outcropping, rolling the sling and tucking beside her. They then ducked in behind her, pulling their knees to their chest as tightly as they could.
Madison didn't stop her mantra and she could feel Mason saying it with her. She grabbed his hand and held on tight.
They say the worst part of sitting through a missile strike is all the waiting.
Madison had been through this before in training. Sitting under cover (it was a certified anti-air assault covering, rated for up to 120 kilotons), waiting for the high pitched screaming to start that would signify they were under fire. She'd done it plenty of times in training. But always in simulation. The sounds and sights were as real as could be, but the damage was not. She never remembered sitting with her heart so far in her throat she couldn't speak. She didn't remember the terror in her twin brother's eyes directed back into her own. She didn't remember the fear turning her blood to ice, and the trembling stopping only when she dug deep in herself and willed her limbs to still. This was like nothing she had experienced before. She'd never minded the waiting before, but as she sat there, and every second felt like an hour, and every minute felt like a day, she had never been so miserable. The sounds grew louder and louder around them, and suddenly, with one loud crash, the world was on fire.
Debris flew all around them, as everything smaller than the boulder they were currently crouched under exploded in a hundred different directions. The air was filled with rubble, and Madison pulled her helmet low on her head, and pulled her knees closer to her chest, burying her face, but she didn't let go of Mason's hand.
The sound was overwhelming. Almost like an oppressive force that pushed them down towards the ground, and Madison struggled to stay up. While the calm before the shelling seemed to last forever, before Madison knew it, the sounds stopped. She lifted her head quickly, and felt Mason do the same.
"Is it over?" He whispered.
"I'm going to check-"
Madison barely got her words out before there was a shuffling beside her and Private Wilde was up from under the cover of the boulder, and hobbling towards the direction they had been heading in. The direction of Sarge and the camp. If any of those worthless purple bellies were watching, she'd lead them right to their squad. Madison stood up quickly.
"肏你妈! The medicine must have worn off. If she gets to them-"
As usual, Mason knew what she was going to say before she even finished. He stood up and raced after the soldier. Madison took a moment to look for the sky and say a quick prayer before she fell in behind.
\
Morning on Songbird was a time of activity. Shepherd Beiste could be counted on to be an early riser. She would make psalms and do quiet contemplation in the loading dock, careful to keep it down, so she wouldn't disturb anyone. Mercedes would say good morning, and head to the bridge, making sure that Brittany hadn't left any important switches turned on (she was a bit of a worrier in that way), and to check the wave to see if there were any new messages. Rachel would be up next, and once she was up, everyone would soon follow. She made it a habit to bathe every morning, and she always sang while she bathed. Loudly. Most of the crew had come to Mercedes at one time or another to complain about the early morning serenade, but she hadn't found a better way yet to make sure that Puck got up before mid afternoon, so she left things alone.
After some grumbling, they'd all meet in the kitchen for breakfast, and whoever's turn it was to prepare the meal would set the table and ready the protein. They had been at dock for a few days, and Kurt had managed to scrounge up some actual fruit and bread, so they made use of that, enjoying the fare that could be obtained while one wasn't launched out into space.
It was almost a festive scene. All clanking glasses, and silverware scraping. Mike and Brittany were in the midst of a joke contest and Puck was trying to convince Kurt that the best liquor to ever be found was on a moon around Deadwood that would serve it to you in a little glass bottle shaped like a skull. Mercedes got up to refill her tea and heard a voice beside her.
"They're an all right bunch, I suppose."
She'd been aware of the presence, but was surprised to find out who it belonged to.
"I reckon so, Ms. Chang. They're my bunch and I'm stuck with 'em."
Quinn laughed that feathery laugh of hers. Not too jovial, but with just the air of geniality. Like someone had told an off color joke that she didn't dare laugh too loudly at, for fear of a stern look from across the ballroom.
"Yes, I suppose so. I guess it's all part and parcel."
"And whaddya mean by that, Ms. Chang?"
Quinn seemed to think about this for a moment, as if she were puzzled by her own words. "I suppose I don't know exactly what I mean, Captain Jones. But, I'm glad that we're here with you, instead of someplace on the other side of the galaxy."
Mercedes took a sip of her tea, and slowly looked back to Quinn. "Well, I suppose, begging your pardon, Ms. Chang, that one of these days you'll have to tell me what you and your brother are up to what's got you fleeing from the Alliance this far from the core planets."
The softness left Quinn's face, and she regarded Mercedes seriously. "As long as we're paying you good credits, Captain-" The title left her mouth with a snap. "Then we'll kindly ask you to mind your own business."
Mercedes wanted to let Quinn know that whatever was happening on board her ship, was her business, but she figured there was a time and place for that. She only gave Quinn a small nod, and walked back to her place at the table.
She caught the group at just the right moment as Brittany started up a new joke.
"Ok, so, this is a good one. What's the difference between a poorly dressed woman on a bicycle, and a well dressed woman on a unicycle?"
Mercedes watched them closely. Kurt, Mike and Santana sat nearby, watching Brittany's face intently. Mercedes couldn't help but notice the way that her first mate sat close to the pilot, her face lighting up in a hundred different ways, a soft smile on her lips as she looked up at Brittany. Mercedes had seen a crush before, she'd seen love before, heck, she'd felt it herself at some points in her distant past. But she'd never, ever, before seen Santana act the way she did around Brittany. She was less like the ferocious guard dog that she'd been during the entire span of the Unification Wars, and more like a sweet kitten, curling up in Brittany's lap for a soft scratch behind the ears. It was certainly something to see. She only hoped that Santana wouldn't be too afraid to jump in and truly let Brittany know how she felt. Luckily for her, Mercedes could see that Brittany felt the same way.
There was a pause as folks thought about Brittany's joke, and she even repeated the question a few more times as the rest of the crew tuned in and tried to figure it out. After a minute or so of wrong answers, everyone was practically begging for the punchline, and Brittany seemed to be ready to give it.
"Okay, okay. I'll only tell you if Santana does something special for me."
The crew ooohed and aaahed for a few seconds, and it was hard to tell in Santana's deep caramel complexion, but if Mercedes had to guess, she would have sworn Santana was blushing.
"W-what-" Santana cleared her throat and started again. "What is it, Britt?"
Brittany smiled cheekily at the group, and leaned down, whispering in Santana's ear. And after hearing what was whispered, Santana's eyes went wide, as if she were a school girl who'd just heard a naughty word.
"B-britt, I can't do that. I just-"
Before anyone could reply, Brittany's comm pad beeped, signifying that their early morning guest was about to make an appearance.
She stood up and made to leave the mess hall. "Well, I suppose if she won't do it, you all will never know."
Everyone groaned, and Kurt tapped Santana's shoulder. "Please, Santana! This is gonna to be a good one."
Mike chimed in as well. "I'm sure you'd like to know as much as we would. And if we don't hear it, we won't know for sure who won the competition."
Puck threw a napkin at Santana. "C'mon, Lopez. I gotta know the end of this thing!"
"Puckerman, you try that again, you're eating this napkin." She growled, giving a dark look to Puck who shrunk back a few inches.
Brittany rocked back on her heels, an innocent look covering her face. "Santanaaa." She said in a sing song-y voice. "I've gotta go to the bridge."
"Fine, fine." Santana said, grabbing the napkin that Puck had thrown at her, and wringing it in her hands.
Everyone moved forward in their chairs as Santana walked over to Brittany. Shepherd Beiste had a grin on her face as she watched the fun, and Rachel was almost swooning, she thought it was so romantic. Even Quinn was leaning forward as she watched Santana approach.
Brittany leaned forward, turning her cheek towards Santana.
"Just one?" Santana said, shakily.
Brittany nodded happily, and Santana approached with caution, and ever so quickly, leaned in, and kissed Brittany soundly on the cheek.
In that moment the room exploded as everyone hooped and hollered, Puck collapsing to the floor in a fit of pique. Mercedes smiled softly to herself. She'd underestimated Brittany. She'd pull Santana out of her shell, yet.
Brittany turned once again to go, but there was a voice that stopped her.
"The joke, Britt!" Puck yelled from the floor.
Brittany stopped in the doorway, and spun around, hanging languidly from the frame, as if Santana's kiss had turned her bones into jelly.
"Ah yes! What's the difference between a poorly dressed woman on a bicycle, and a well dressed woman on a unicycle?"
She paused for a moment and then winked at Santana, spreading her arms wide as if she were a magician revealing a successful illusion.
"Attire!"
With that Brittany was out the mess hall, and down the hall, with only the sounds of boos and boisterous laughter following her.
\
Santana considered it a small mercy that Mercedes didn't mention what happened in the dining room. Of course, Brittany had been messing with her. She didn't know why the pilot had asked her to do what she'd done (Santana didn't know what she even did it!), but she couldn't find it in herself to be angry. That's just who Brittany was. She liked to joke around, she liked to kid, and she liked to touch and hug. It didn't mean anything more that Brittany asked her for a kiss than when Brittany sat on Kurt's lap and ruffled his hair. Of course, it felt different to Santana, Brittany could sit in Kurt's lap all day, and he wouldn't feel a thing. She wasn't exactly his type. She sighed deeply.
"Santana?"
Mercedes voice jolted her back to the present. They were standing in the loading bay, waiting patiently for the hatch to open as Brittany worked the door from the cockpit. Her Captain's voice had another effect: breaking her out of her reverie and right back into soldier mode.
Santana all but snapped to attention. "Sir?"
"No need for all the formality, San. I just wanted to get you out of your own head. We've gotta roll out the welcome wagon for this girl, and make sure that she's well taken care of. Mr. Motta seemed to hold her in very high esteem."
"Yes, sir."
Mercedes sighed. She wouldn't bring up the incident in the dining room, that would only embarrass Santana more, but she'd rather they cleared the air before the young Motta appeared.
"When was the last time you spent some time with someone, San?"
Santana tried to puzzle that one out. "Spent time with someone, sir?"
"I'm speaking of romantic entanglements."
Santana blanched, then struggled to collect herself. "I reckon it's been a while, sir."
Mercedes thought for a moment. "There's nothing wrong with it. Even all the way out here." Mercedes gestured towards the ship. "In fact, there something to be said for finding love out here in the black."
Santana only nodded, looking closely at the floor.
"Sometimes," Mercedes started, walking towards the slowly opening door. "Things can be as clear or as cloudy as we want them to be."
Santana didn't get a chance to respond as she followed behind Mercedes because as soon as the door opened, the sounds of screaming overtook the loading dock.
"I'll have you know that as soon as I tell Daddy how you two manhandled me, they're never going to FIND THE PIECES! You idiotic piles of protein! If you don't put me down right now, I am going to KICK YOUR ASSES!"
Two bulky men in black suits marched up the loading bay ramp, and while one of them carried a small bag, Santana smirked at the squirming bundle that the other had hiked over his shoulder. She had to give it to that Motta kid. She really knew how to put up a fight. If Santana were in her shoes, she probably would have left the bodyguards with a couple black eyes. Of course, later on, she'd spent most of the trip crying her eyes out. She wondered why Al Motta had found it necessary to send Sugar away. If Santana were more nosey, she probably could have found out. But Motta family business was just that, and she didn't want to think about what might happen if she asked too many questions.
The voice piped up again. "I said PUT ME DOWN!"
The kicking became more exaggerated, and the guard holding (what Santana assumed was) Sugar grimaced as he tried to hold on tight. The other guard ignored the screaming, and nodded to Mercedes.
"Captain Jones, I presume?'
Mercedes smirked. "Well, I sure hope so, as this is the Songbird, and her Captain goes by the name of Jones."
The man didn't seem amused. He only nodded to his companion, who hefted the struggling bundle, and set it down on the steps with a thump.
"Mr. Motta will be sending a wave to check on his daughter. I assume you make her as comfortable as possible."
Santana felt her own amusement grow as she watched the burly guard delicately uncinch a drawstring, and unfurl all of the glory of Ms. Sugar Motta.
She shrugged off the sack fitfully. "怎么满啊! It's about time!"
The guard made his frantic apologies, and brushed off her clothes, doing his best to smooth out any wrinkles that he saw while simultaneously muttering about how such drastic measures were necessary to avoid anyone seeing Sugar while she was making her escape. Santana took the chance to have a good long look at Sugar, who she'd never confuse for someone from the outer rim. She wore animal prints in colors and patterns that Santana had never seen before in combination, and her auburn hair was sticking out in awkward directions as she had it tied up in interesting combinations.
"Can I help you?"
Sugar's sharp voice forced Santana to focus on her face. Specifically the angry expression on her face that was currently being pointed in her direction. Santana couldn't be bothered with getting into it with someone who was barely more than cargo.
She shrugged. "I doubt it. Come this way, I'll show you to your bunk."
Sugar paused for a moment, and then followed Santana out of the cargo bay, and Mercedes waited behind, until they were far enough away, then approached the two men. It was then that Mercedes realized that the two men were nearly indistinguishable from one another. They wore identical black suits with white shirts and black ties. They also wore sunglasses that covered their eyes, and made identification even more difficult. She had no idea if she'd been talking to the first, the second, or both since they made their entrance. The small bag that one had been carrying during their dramatic entrance sat on the ground between them, and it was hard even to tell who'd been carrying it.
She looked back and forth between them, and picked one at random. "The pay?"
The one nearest to her reached into his pocket, and with a flash, Mercedes' hand was on her gun. She didn't pull it from the holster, but she slid it high, and had the hammer pulled when she saw a flash of brown, and packet of money that the guard pulled out. She relaxed, and slid the gun back into place.
"Half now, and half on arrival." The guard said, reaching out the packet.
Mercedes reached for it, careful not to seem too eager, and rifled through the cash. "Who will I meet for the rest?"
"She'll be the same person you're meeting in Constance. All of the instructions will be given to you by wave. Mr. Motta will be contacting you directly. Less of a chance of anyone else finding out that way."
"Well, we wouldn't want that." Mercedes deadpanned. "Anyway, I thought one of you was supposed to be sticking around. Acting as bodyguard or some such."
There was a moment of indecision between the two before they looked back to Mercedes.
"Mr. Motta feels it would be safer if she went alone. If you run into any Alliance trouble it will make her stand out a lot less. That was his reasoning anyway."
Of course Mercedes had no intention of running into any Alliance at all, but less meat heads around taking up all the oxygen would be welcome. Anyway, they had more than enough muscle to protect Sugar well enough should it come to that.
One of them (Mercedes still couldn't tell who was who), reached down, picking up the bag, and placing it at Mercedes' feet.
"This contains some of Ms. Motta's personal possessions. Please make sure that she gets them."
"Will do." Mercedes said, nodding. "Anything else?"
The men shook their heads, and made to turn off the ramp, but one turned back. "You'll want to, um, her voice."
Mercedes furrowed her brow in confusion. "Huh?"
"I mean, her singing. It's, um, less than ideal."
The other slapped the first, and shushed him. "Don't be ridiculous. Her voice is amazing, and we love to listen to her singing."
The first looked ashamed, and tried to talk again. "I just figured it'd be good to warn them-"
"There's no warning necessary." He said, giving his partner a firm look. "Her voice is amazing and we LOVE to hear her singing."
There seemed to be some disagreement, but Mercedes paid it no mind. Whatever their issue was with Sugar's singing wouldn't be hers, as she had no plans to spend any more time with Sugar than was necessary to make sure that she got the rest of her pay. She watched the two men argue down the ramp and pulled out her radio.
"The cargo's on board. Let's wrap it up, Britt."
There was a static-y silence before Brittany piped up from the flight deck. "Aye Aye Captain! Preparing for departure."
There was a louder crackle as Brittany got onto the main speaker. "Ladies and Gentlepeople, prepare yourselves for departure. We will vacating the fine city of Eavesdown very shortly. By the way, has anybody seen Rachel? She might be a little cross if we leave her behind."
Santana stopped for a moment in front of the ladder to the upper bunks, where Sugar would be spending her time aboard the Songbird, and chuckled to herself.
"Who's that?" Sugar asked.
"Oh, Rachel? She's already back on board, She finished with her clients this morning, and is probably getting ready to sleep all day. But she'll hate that announcement, I wish I could see her face."
"No." Sugar said, looking up at the ladder distastefully, before stepping onto the first rung. "The person doing the announcement. She seems to think she's funny."
Santana narrowed her eyes. "She is funny, and she's our pilot, and if you've got a problem with her, you've got one with me."
Sugar paused and looked back at Santana. She focused on Santana a minute before continuing up the ladder. "Sorry, I can't help it. My daddy says that I just say the first thing that comes out of my mouth. But, nobody's ever called me out on it before."
"So what, are you going to tell your Daddy?"
Sugar only shrugged and continued up the ladder. Santana followed and opened the shuttle door, showing Sugar inside. The room had been Kurt's for a while, but he took to sleeping in the engine room, so Mercedes had simply taken down the posters of men in strapping military uniforms, but kept up the floral arrangements and soft lighting. Everything else was standard, though this room was a bit bigger than the others. Bed, sink, desk, and a single chair. It wasn't much, but besides Rachel's room (which she'd decorated at her own expense), it was the most luxurious of the bunch. And Sugar had it all to herself.
"This is where I'm supposed to live?" Sugar said, not even bothering to hide her disgust.
"Yep. And it's even got it's own toilet right down the hall."
Sugar wrinkled her nose. "This is awful."
"Well, if you wanted a first class ship, this is not it. This is the Songbird. It's a Firefly-class vessel, and it gets the job done. But she ain't pretty. And she's what your daddy paid for. So, get used to it."
Sugar deflated, but didn't respond, and Santana couldn't help but take pity on her.
"Look, kid. I can't imagine what it's like to have your parents send you away the way Mr. Motta did you, but, this'll be your home for the next couple weeks, so let's make the most of it, ok?"
Sugar nodded, and Santana patted her gently on the shoulder.
"Wait a second." Sugar said, her voice returning to the previous high volume. "Where's my bag?!"
"Right here." Came a voice from the hallway. They turned and Mercedes stood in the doorway. She slung the bag down onto the ground at their feet with a thump. "And it's pretty heavy too."
Sugar beamed. "Well, thanks for the help, Captain. I haven't had breakfast so I'll expect lunchin my room in half an hour. You can also bring a tub-"
Mercedes held up a hand. "Meals are in a schedule, one of the crew is on duty for it, and everyone eats in the dining room. Brittany'll make an announcement when it's time to head over there. Right now, there's still some fresh things, but that'll dry up before too long as we get farther from port. Showers are once every other day. You'll get a schedule, and you can clean up in the sink in your room when if you'd like, but there's a cap on the amount of water you can use everyday. It's cleaned and recycled. Also, you're allowed anywhere on the ship but stay out of the cargo holds unless you've got one of the crew with you, and stay out of the engine room."
"This place is like a prison!" Sugar huffed, sitting down on the bed petulantly.
"Oh trust me, I've been to prison, this place beats it by a mile." Mercedes responded. "Oh, and if you have any more questions, you can ask First Mate Santana."
"Sir? Can I talk to you-"
"I've gotta go check on Kurt and make sure we're primed for takeoff. Have fun ladies." Mercedes made a beeline for the door before Santana could stop her, and she was left alone, once again, with Sugar.
\
Rachel was furious. She was a paying customer, and was paying just as much as everyone else (if not more!) This was an injustice of the highest caliber, and if she could get Captain Jones to herself, she'd give her an earful! Unfortunately for her, it seemed that since they'd left Persephone it seemed like every time she entered a room, Captain Jones had just left. It had already been three days traveling, and she was almost at her wit's end.
And it was all Sugar Motta's fault.
She'd first run into the loud girl in the hallway, where she'd refused to make way for Rachel's prized boa collection. Later in the dining room, Sugar had taken the spotlight away from her with a 'riveting' story about the time that her father gave her an entire moon as a present. And the rudeness, the insensitivity, her ability to be loud all the time would be something Rachel could forgive. One might say she was sometimes a victim of these issues. But, could never forgive Sugar's voice.
When she sang, which was loudly and often, she sounded like a foghorn that had a baby with a beached whale, which was always stubbing its toe on an ill tuned tuba.
Rachel had heard bad singing before. She'd been subjected to that when she was a child at the orphanage, where all the children were taught hymnals to sing after mass. Even the most tone deaf child would drone alone with the nuns or risk getting a swatting. Rachel learned to overpower every other voice, until the only sound left was her powerful soprano drowning out the weaker ones, and filling the chapel with sweet vibrato. But Sugar's voice was something else. Not only was she bad at singing, but the sheer presumption of her voice is what made it hard for Rachel to swallow. The way that she absolutely refused correction. The way that she truly believed that her voice was one for the ages. Especially when it certainly was not.
At first, Rachel did her best to ignore it. When she'd hear the out of tune warbling going on in the shower room, she'd turn around and head the other way. When she'd walk past the mess hall, and catch even the slightest hint of that brazing squawking, she'd find someplace else to be. But when she'd gone to the cockpit to look for Mercedes and found Brittany and Santana sitting as a rapt audience to Sugar belting out one of the old Browncoat songs Rachel couldn't take it anymore. She wasn't trying to be a diva, but this ship only had room for one singing ingenue, and that person was Rachel Berry.
She was coming up the ladder into the main hall when she caught a glimpse of tan slacks that she knew belonged to their stalwart captain.
"Captain Jones. Oh, Captain Jones, can I trouble you for a second?"
The leg disappeared, and Rachel followed, determined not to let the opportunity pass her by. She knew that Mercedes' bunk was in the exact opposite direction, so if she could keep her from doubling back, she'd have her trapped.
Another turn and the calf became a full leg. "Captain. Captain Jones-"
It was out of sight again, and Rachel hiked up her skirts and began to jog after. With the next turn the leg became a body, and Rachel gave up all pretense and began flat out running behind Mercedes. Another turn and her arms came in sight, and one last turn brought Mercedes to a dead end.
"Captain...Jones…" Rachel gasped, bending at the waist as she tried to catch her breath.
Mercedes knew she was caught (how she managed to run into a dead end on her own ship was a mystery to her) and turned to greet Rachel warmly.
"Why Ms. Berry! I didn't hear you behind me. How are you this fine day?"
Rachel did her best to ignore Mercedes' determined attempt to get away from her and focus on the problem at hand.
"It's Sugar Motta, Mercedes, you've got to deal with her."
Mercedes shook her head. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean by 'deal with her', Rachel. I can't exactly kick her off the boat. Now, we got paid to do a job, and we're gonna do it. You're going to have to get over your little rivalry-"
Mercedes was cut off as Rachel made a strangling sound and her beige skin began to turn a burning red.
"Rivals?!" She squeaked. "Captain Jones if you think her skill even begins to rival mine-!"
Mercedes out her hands up, desperate to diffuse the situation. Rachel was a paying customer and a long term one at that, she had no intention of disrespecting her, no matter how easy that was to do. Of course, she also liked Rachel, and hadn't meant to hurt her feelings.
"休息, Rachel. I just meant that you two clearly have a touch of friction, and that's up to y'all to figure out. I don't want to be in the middle of it, but I think you're both trying your best-"
"You're sticking up for her because her father is Al Motta! He's a big fish in this pond, and you don't want to cross him!"
Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Well, I reckon you wouldn't want to cross the Motta family either, but it's not about that. Yes, Sugar has certain personality traits that one might consider a mite taxing, but she's not so different than you."
Mercedes didn't take this opportunity to mention how annoying she thought they both were.
"She is passionate about music, and she actually tends to like people, so I think we should just let bygones be bygones."
Rachel huffed angrily, but didn't reply.
"Now, I trust this will be the last I hear of you for a while?" Mercedes said, hopefully.
"Oh, I certainly couldn't make a promise like that, Captain."
Mercedes tried her best to hold her tongue, and only watched quietly as Rachel made her way back down the gangway.
"Captain."
Mercedes didn't have to turn to recognize the purr in that voice.
"Ms. Chang. We meet again. Are you following me?"
"Oh please." Quinn made her way towards Mercedes, getting close enough for conversation, but as far as the narrow corridor would allow. "This ship is so small, I find that any amount of time I spend wandering leads me to bump into you at all hours."
"Glad to see it's such a pleasant experience for you."
Quinn laughed, a deep throaty thing that Mercedes noticed immediately.
"Sorry, of course, Captain, it's always good to know you're around. I certainly feel safer when you are."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Well, yes. I have Mike, of course, and he's as brave as they come, but he's a doctor. He's meant to heal people. He doesn't it quite well, of course, but he doesn't have the stomach to do harm. It's literally his oath. He doesn't have the stomach to kill."
Mercedes turned more fully to Quinn, taking a step closer. "And me?"
Quinn's eyes flashed down for a moment, and then they returned to look into Mercedes eyes. "I'm positive you're no threat to anyone you hold dear, but I would not want to be opposite of you on any point that mattered."
Mercedes returned the fierce glare for a moment before she smiled slightly. "Well, the way things are turning out, I don't think you'll run into that problem."
"I hope not."
There was a moment of silence before a distant clang broke the spell, and Mercedes cleared her throat, gave a small nod, and left Quinn in the lonely hallway.
\
Corporal Santana Lopez looked through the binoculars carefully, scanning the horizon from where she stood. She pushed a small button turning off the night vision, hoping to get more clarity. When that didn't work, she activated motion sensors, still nothing. Then another button turning the color spectrum deep blue, hoping to see some brown out in the distance. The only thing she saw was the same thing that had been staring at her for the last half an hour.
Nothing.
"Gorramit."
The private keeping her company, Tina Cohen-Chang, made a soft squeak. "Sergeant Jones isn't going to like it if she hears you swearing, ma'am."
There was a brief pause, and Santana rounded on Tina, pointing at her with the binoculars.
"And who's going to tell her, you?"
Tina took a step back, but knew she wasn't in any real danger. Santana was mostly bite, the rest bark, and anyway, she was just frustrated.
"Of course not, Corporal, but she might hear you if you're making all that racket."
Santana gripped the binocs tightly in her hand, and made to throw them, but paused, setting them down gently beside her.
"他妈的! They were supposed to be back by now! They were only going a few clicks out, and then they were supposed to come back. Where in the gorram hell are they?!"
"Corporal, they would have radioed us if there was trouble. If they're not, that means they're keeping a low profile. They're trying to be safe."
"And if they're lying at the bottom of a ditch somewhere. Shot to pieces by those 狗屎 purple bellies."
"Well, maybe you should try to be a bit more positive."
"And maybe you should shut the hell up."
"Corporal-"
Tina's thought was cut off as a high pitched whine filled the air. Santana didn't hesitate a moment before grabbing Tina's arm and nearly throwing her back inside their base.
"DEWS. Get in. Stay in. Find the Sergeant."
Tina didn't even take a moment to nod before scrambling inside.
Santana reached for her binocs and got low, scanning the skies for the enemy UAVs which could drop a bomb on them at a second's notice. She knew that the enemy had no idea where they were, but that certainly wouldn't stop them from razing every square inch of ground until they hit something. That's just how sick those sadistic sons of bitches where. Here they were, in Serenity Valley, outmanned, outnumbered, and out planned. Really, at the mercy of the Alliance forces. But their opponents wouldn't let up. They wouldn't even give them a moment to breathe. Santana had joined up with the Browncoats because she'd believed in their cause, and she would fight for it with every breath she had, but there was something in her that mourned for all of her fellow soldiers who would die because of Alliance cruelty.
As the bombs started to fall, Santana laid flat on the ground, covered by the awning that had been set up. She knew that the bombs were falling a good distance away, but she didn't want to take any chances.
Once the shelling stopped, Santana counted to ten, and stood up, skimming the horizon for any movement. Something was out there. The shots they'd fired had been longer and more spread out than the earlier fishing sessions. But even now as she frantically strained to catch even a glimpse of the slightest break in the landscape, she saw nothing. She almost turned and went back inside. Sergeant Jones would be looking for her. She'd want a full report, or as much as Santana could give. She'd want times, coordinates, numbers and names. And Santana needed to get back inside, go over reports, and check instruments. But even the off chance that someone was out there, that one of the three duos that Mercedes had sent to look for survivors was on it's way back, or worse, stuck under heavy Alliance fire… Well, that made her hold her position for just another moment longer.
Then she saw it.
Later on, when she sits ramrod straight up in her bed, panting, beads of sweat pouring off of her, Santana will remember this moment as clearly as she sees it now. She will remember the heat that rose up from the ground, even though the blanket of night touched everything around them. She will remember the smell. DEWS have a very distinct aroma. Like blood that's been mixed with vinegar. It's a pungent, heady smell that gets into your clothes so bad that you'd rather throw a uniform away than wear it again. She will remember the sound. It was a distant faint scuttle, and then a rhythmic thump. One after another. Like a wagon with a bum wheel, or a heart that beats out of time.
Santana looked out, and suddenly there they were. As clear as day. Two figures running towards the base that they'd carved into the ground there. Well, one was running. The other was hobbling. Santana shoved the field glasses up to her eyes, not even wincing as they smacked into her face. It was McCarthy, at least one of them. The boy. She never had a lot of time for that one. He didn't seem to have his head screwed on tight. But his sister was another matter. She was destined for great things, and Santana didn't have to see much of her to know that. The other person who was running, no, this was the hobbling one, that person was someone Santana hadn't seen before. She was blonde and Santana couldn't be sure, but it looked like she had a big 'C' on her shoulder patch. If she was with company C she had to be the last one left. As far as Santana knew they'd been taken out after a huge attack the day before. There weren't supposed to have been any survivors.
Santana held her breath, silently willing the two bodies forward. Boy McCarthy was catching up with Company C, but they were out in the open, with absolutely no cover. It certainly wasn't the best position to find themselves in.
A rustling behind her told Santana she had company. She recognized the footsteps immediately, and snapped to attention.
"Sergeant Jones."
Mercedes patted her on the shoulder. "At ease, Corporal. Update me."
"There's two coming this way, Sarge." Santana said, handing Mercedes the goggles. "DEWS stopped a few minutes ago, but it's not good. Boy McCarthy and another one that I don't recognize. Maybe from Company C. Girl McCarthy is nowhere in sight."
Mercedes took the binoculars, and smiled tightly. "One of these days you're going to have to learn their ranks, Santana."
"What are we going to do, Sarge? It's only a few minutes-"
"Let's give them some cover. Tina, get Blaine and head to the parapets. We need to buy them some time." Mercedes grabbed Tina's arm before she scurried away. "You wait for my signal. I don't care what happens, but you don't do a thing without my signal, you hear me? Not one move."
Tina nodded sharply. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good girl." Mercedes patted her firmly on the shoulder, shoving her towards the door. "Now get. 现在!"
Tina moved inside to follow the orders, and Santana went to stand beside Mercedes.
"But, Sarge, we do that, we give away our position. They'll know exactly where to hit us." She said quietly.
Mercedes went to kneel in front of a equipment chest, pulling out grenades, and stuffing them into the pockets of her uniform. "That's why I'm hoping they won't have to. But if worst comes to worst, I'd rather they're trying to hit us in the bunkers rather than folks with nothing over their heads but the open sky."
Santana looked on skeptically for a moment, before stepping forward, grabbing a few grenades, and putting them in her own pockets.
"Don't you want to know what the plan is?" Mercedes, even in the midst of all the danger, still managed a grin with the smallest amount of sass in it.
Santana was in no mood, but raised her eyebrows. "It's your plan, Sarge, so it's bound to be insane, but will somehow work out. So, I'm not going to question it."
Mercedes smile became even wider. "That's good! You're learning!" She paused a moment for emphasis, standing up and brushing off her hands. "We're going out after them."
Santana nodded. "And the DEWS?"
"That's what the grenades are for. Come on!" She dashed from out of the trench, straight towards the two figures that were getting closer and closer. Santana had no choice but to follow after.
\
Kurt liked the hum of the engines in a well working ship. He knew them like his own heartbeat he listened to them so much. Ever since he had joined Mercedes as a part of her crew, he'd gotten to spend every moment in the care of the Songbird, and he knew her as well as any mechanic could know his ship.
Which was pretty well.
But ever since that new pilot had come around, the Songbird had been complaining at every turn. It wasn't that he didn't like Brittany, he did, but sometimes she was so tough on his pride and joy that he couldn't help feeling a little insulted. On the up side, she did seem to really care about everyone, and wasn't too bad at getting them out of sticky situations. However, one of her more annoying habits was coming down into the engine room and causing trouble. Not big troubles, mind you, but smaller things that would make repairs that much more confusing later on. Kurt had caught her in the act a few times, but more often than not she'd wait until she knew he was otherwise indisposed to start monkey about. To put a stop to her endeavors, he'd set up a trap of sorts. Not really a trap, but more like an alarm system. It was a stockpile of old broken pots and pans, bells, and even a bit of old netting that Kurt had saved from the trash bin on a fishing planet they'd had a job in. He'd spent hours setting it up. It had to be stealthy enough that she wouldn't see it, strong enough that it would do the job, and versatile enough that Kurt could move it out of the way if he had to. Finally, when it was done, he'd sat back with a sigh of relief. Ready to teach that pilot a lesson once and for all. Of course, someone (probably Santana) had tipped Brittany off about the device, and he hadn't had a bite in weeks.
Now, Kurt walked back to the engine room with a spring in his step. He'd lucked out finding the boarder for the Captain, and even though the ship was missing some (vital) parts, they'd be able to hobble along with what they had. He'd even found a replacement cooling fan for the aft alternators that would save them on fuel. He turned the part over in his hand, looking at it carefully. It would need a little work before it would be ready to install, but he could have it done in no time.
Suddenly clattering and cursing caught his attention. He raced towards the engine room, hoping to catch the blonde pilot in the act.
"I've got you, Britt. I told you about sneaking around-"
Kurt paused. It certainly wasn't the tall but petite blonde pilot caught in the pieces of netting that he'd so delicately fastened to the ceiling. This person was bigger, heftier, and definitely more masculine.
"Finn? What are you doing in here?"
"Gorramit! I got turned around, and then I got over here, and- 屁事 Kurt, can you help me get out of this thing?"
Kurt faltered for a moment, and carefully setting down his cooling fan, he helped untangled Finn.
Finn stood up to his full height and shook himself. "Thanks! What was all that?"
"Oh that." Kurt turned red, and grimaced. "I was just… Um, we'll.. I've had problems-"
"Is that a Gurstler engine?" Finn interrupted, pushing past Kurt, and approaching the engines. "I haven't seen one of those in forever. 我的天啊! What a beaut! And you've got her purring like a kitten."
Kurt's blush deepened, and he giggled "Well, I do my best. It was Mercedes uncle's ship, but I've fixed her up."
"Holy cow." Finn ducked under the engine, emerging from the other side with a grin. "She looks great, just great. What, did you rebuild her from scratch?"
"Pretty much! I took apart an Aeronica 420 that we got out of a scrap heap, and managed to get a lot of fuel efficiency out of it."
"Wow, just wow. How long you been working on her?" Finn asked, giving the engine an appreciative pat.
"Oh, since the beginning. See, to start it was just Mercedes, Santana and me. Eventually everyone else started coming around. Puck was actually sent to kill us when we met, but we offered him more money."
"What about the rest of the crew? Brittany, Rachel, and that doctor friend of yours?"
"Oh, they came at different times. Mike and his sister are the newest. Between you and me, I don't think they're meant for living out here in the black. There's too much Alliance about them. But also between you and me, I hope he sticks it out. That man really knows how to wear a smock!"
"I would have thought he was a part of the crew for years, with the way he's around you all."
"Nope, it hasn't been too long. Lemme think. Maybe a few weeks? It was around the turn of the year-"
'Kurt. What was all that ruckus?"
Kurt turned abruptly and came almost face to face (well, face to shoulder) with Shepherd Beiste. He smiled. "Oh nothing, Shepherd, just this trap I had set up to catch Brittany, only it caught Finn instead."
"And what exactly are you doing in here, Mr. Hudson?"
Finn gave a bright smile, and ducked back under the engine, coming to stand near to entrance into the engine room. "I got turned around is all. This dang ship is like a maze. Anyway, I'm going to get back to my bunk. Have a good night, Shepherd, Kurt."
He gave them a nod, and was out the door like a flash.
Shannon watched his retreat with some interest. "Strange boy."
"You're a pretty intimidating woman, Shepherd." Kurt said with a smile. "He's got to get to know the real you. Figure out you're a big 'ol softie. He'd want to spend more time with you then."
Shannon returned his smile, putting a large arm around his shoulder. "Well, not everyone can know me like you do, Kurt."
Kurt giggled as Shannon lead them out of the engine room.
\
Santana's brow was furrowed in concentration, as she chewed thoughtfully on her lip. She narrowed her eyes as she tried to focus on Brittany's face.
"Ummm…" She mumbled.
Brittany sat cross legged in her pilot's chair, only a few inches away from where Santana was perched on a console, and returned the focused look. She placed her hands gently on Santana's thighs, and smiled inwardly when Santana didn't shrink away from the contact, like she might have a few months ago.
"Focus, Lopez. You've got to pick up the psychic vibes that I'm putting down. It requires all of you spirit consolidated into a point of contact."
Santana frowned a bit, and sat back. "B, I don't-"
Brittany reached higher, and pulled Santana forward, until their noses were nearly touching, and she watched the skepticism be immediately replaced by something a bit more animal.
"You can do it." Brittany purred, watching Santana closely as she gently moved her hands up and down Santana's arms.
Brittany could feel the heat rising in her own face as she leaned forward slightly. To be honest, she'd like Santana from the moment they'd first seen each other. Mercedes had heard her boasting that she'd once done a Crazy Ivan upside down on a dare. It was one of her favorite stories, and one that happened to be absolutely true. Mercedes had offered her a job on the spot because she 'liked the look of her', and because Brittany had liked her too, she took it. To be completely honest, she hadn't expected it to be a long term job. She needed a way to get off that backwoods planet she'd been hanging out on, and a paying job seemed like the best bet. But, as soon as she'd stepped into that cargo hold, and laid eyes on Mercedes' first mate, she'd had no intention of going anywhere.
Santana had hated her at first, of course. It seemed that whatever Brittany did was exactly the wrong thing. But there was a quiet vulnerability about Santana that made her want to get to know her a lot more. So, Brittany started teasing her. It was little things at first, like asking her to explain something a few times while she pretended to not get it. That worked for a while, but once Santana caught on, she moved on to making sure she sat next to her at every opportunity. Every meal, every meeting with Mercedes. Anytime she just wanted to flop down on a sofa, she was in flopping distance to Santana. Of course, it was slow going, but Brittany was sure there was something in Santana that was responding, and before too long Brittany would be enjoying a nice bowl of protein, and Santana would sit down right beside her. It didn't matter if the mess hall was full to bursting, or Brittany was the only one. Santana would sidle up and without a word, sit down right beside her. Even the rest of the crew knew that one side of her had to be free.
So, what was their relationship now? Brittany wasn't sure. She teased Santana from time to time because she thought she was cute when she'd smile and the corners of her eyes would crinkle. But Brittany didn't want to dictate their relationship anymore. She'd been pushing Santana, and now the most important thing was that Santana was comfortable. And that meant letting her take the reigns for a while. Little did Brittany know that Santana was the slowest pilot in the whole two suns. Still, there was something endearing about it, and Brittany couldn't help but feel her tender feelings towards Santana grow even more.
That's why she enjoyed moments like this. When nightmares would jolt her awake in a cold sweat, she would leave her bunk and sit in the cockpit. She would keep an eye on the ship's systems but more often than not she would concoct elaborate stories for her dinosaurs. It was never boring but sometimes a little lonely. But over the past few weeks, Santana had sauntered in and would keep her company. Neither asked why the other was awake at such an ungodly hour, but they had a commiseration of two people who had seen things that they'd rather forget but that still popped up in their dreams. In those moments, Brittany rarely teased. She opened herself up with a vulnerability that she rarely did. She let herself be serious and gentle and broken in a way that she couldn't be in her daylight hours and was rewarded when Santana was the same.
Tonight, the theme was "Unlocking your psychic potential". Brittany had secured playing cards to their foreheads (hiding a kiss in her application of Santana's) and they had to guess the card. Brittany had been successful in her attempt and now it was Santana's turn.
Brittany could feel Santana's breath on her face, and could feel the heat rising there, but she tried her best to stay cool.
"So, um, yeah, just focus." Brittany continued moving her hands up and down Santana's arms. She could feel her leaning in ever so slightly. She could feel that Santana wanted something from her, if only she could figure out exactly what it was.
They leaned further in, slowly, slowly until Brittany was sure their lips would meet, when suddenly Santana retreated quickly, rolling off the console, and ripping the card off of her forehead.
"This is impossible, B! I mean, I have no idea. There's nothing in my head even suggesting at the right answer."
She paced around the room, tossing the card at Brittany, who caught it, and laughed gently.
"Santana…" She said, standing up, and coming to a stop right beside her.
Santana huffed, crossing her arms, and pouted. "What?"
Brittany laughed again, putting her arms around Santana and giving her a tight hug. "You're just so cute when you do that. I can't stand it. 怎么可爱!"
This brought a smile to Santana's face, and she ducked her head a bit, careful not to move too much, lest she move to far away from Brittany. They were standing close now, their fronts completely flush against one another in the remains of the hug, Brittany standing a few inches taller than Santana, so (had she wanted), she could have buried her lips into Brittany's neck.
"Do you want to know the secret? How I guessed yours?" This came out barely above a whisper, as Brittany nudged her nose against Santana's.
Santana gulped loudly, and nodded.
"Well…" Brittany began, putting a gentle kiss on Santana's cheek.
"All you have to do…" She placed another one on Santana's other cheek.
"Is look deep into the other person's eyes…" She placed a kiss on Santana's chin.
"And…" She put one last kiss on Santana's forehead, and licked her own lips. Brittany's eyes drifted towards Santana's lips, and she leaned down ever so slightly. Brittany closed her eyes in anticipation, but suddenly, Santana took a step back.
"What-?"
"You saw the reflection!" Santana pointed a finger at Brittany accusingly, while simultaneously trying to hide her smile. "You looked in my eyes, and saw the card reflected cause I was looking at it!"
Brittany slapped both hands over her heart. "Busted."
"I'm going to kill you, Pierce! You had me thinking you were an honest to god psychic, you rat!"
Santana reached for Brittany, but she moved gracefully out of reach, but Santana didn't stop. She bounded over the chair and caught Brittany in the corner, but her momentum was too much and it ended up tumbling the both of them, ass over tea kettle to the floor. They were both giggling so hard that it took Santana a moment to realize that she'd ended up straddling Brittany who'd fallen on her back.
She held her sides and took in a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry, Britt! 很抱歉! Are you okay?"
Brittany caught her breath as well. "I'm fine, fine. I used to dance and I'm used to falling. I know how to do it with style."
Santana leaned forward menacingly, covering Brittany's wrists with her hands.
"Well, if you're so good, then how'd I end up on top?" She growled.
Brittany smiled and with a flick of her hips she'd popped Santana up in the air, shimmied out from the bottom and was now straddling Santana. She pressed her hips down a bit for good measure and could see the result from the look in Santana's eyes.
"You'll only end up on top if I let you." She breathed, nipping on Santana's earlobe.
Brittany pulled back, desperately searching Santana's face. She knew Santana found her attractive, knew that she liked her as more than just a friend, but she wanted her to say it. She wanted her enthusiastic participation, otherwise, she didn't want it. Brittany had played this game before with guys and girls, but she'd never felt as desperate as she did with Santana. She'd never felt this feeling as raw and as pounding. But she wanted Santana to say it. She wanted to hear it in her own words. That she wanted Brittany as much as Brittany wanted her. That she cared about her as much as Brittany cared about her. She wanted the words because without the words, she wasn't sure that this was exactly what Santana wanted.
All the signs were there, of course. She could feel Santana's pulse quicken, she could feel the heat where she sat from between Santana's legs, she could hear Santana panting, not from exertion, but from desire, but the words… Those gorram words still eluded her.
"Britt…" Santana breathed.
And Brittany saw it. She wasn't ready. She was close (very very close), but she wasn't ready. There was a hesitation in her voice, a hiccup that gave everything away, and as much as Brittany wanted whatever was happening to actually happen, Santana wasn't ready. So she would wait. It was the least she could do.
So, slowly, so, so slowly, Brittany moved off of Santana. She rolled over, sitting beside her, running her fingers through her hair a few times in order to catch her breath. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, desperate to compose themselves.
"Santana-" Brittany began, but a beep from the console cut her off.
She was on her feet in an instant, pressing buttons as quickly as she could. "哎呀坏了."
Santana was on her feet too, standing by. "What's wrong?"
"We've gotta problem." She turned, pressing a button on the console, and speaking into the microphone there. "Mercedes, you might wanna get up here…"