Disclaimer in previous chapters. In which I shuffle the players around on the board a little bit.
- . -
"Don't be a fool."
He adopted the expression of an orphan kicked for trying to sleep on a general store's doorstep, but he didn't lower the sash-like material.
She narrowed her eyes, and his face relaxed into something more somber. She was letting him get away with his previous antics less and less, and part of her felt more than a little guilt for sucking dry what miniscule moments of fun he was getting out of life. The rest of her recognized that this was no time for games, and he needed to act like he was as serious about this as he needed to be.
But since he'd just given her that indication, a moment of play at his expense could be afforded . . .
She lowered her chin slightly, leaving her eyes narrowed, and raised one shoulder, changing the gap of her bodice. "You do know what is implied when a man approaches a lady with a scarlet scarf, don't you?"
His solemn expression never flickered, but the faintest tinge of a blush appeared on his cheeks.
"Of course," he responded smoothly. "Frankly I wasn't certain you'd be receptive, but a gentleman has to ask."
She was a little nonplussed by his confident answer. She had expected him to start gibbering like a moron and stuttering apologies, considering he was all but asking permission to tie her to a bedframe. Then again, as much skirt-chasing and flirting as he did, it was rather stupid to think that every story regarding Vash the Stampede riding out of town with the local beauty in tow was fabricated.
"I should have expected nothing less from a man of your profession," she purred, letting her eyes drift down his frame. He'd eschewed the familiar duster for a pair of traveling trousers in a non-descript khaki and a brilliant white button-down, loose at the collar. Loose enough to not prohibit movement and allow him to don his body armor beneath it, but still accentuating his athletic build.
His blush turned a shade darker, but remarkably he held himself together until her gaze wound its way back up to his eyes. "I'm actually just the messenger." He waited a beat before smiling, slowly and a little unsettlingly. "This particular requirement is being insisted upon by my brother."
"How cosmopolitan," she muttered, effectively breaking the mood. As if the mere mention of Knives hadn't already done it for her. "I'm not going anywhere in a blindfold, Vash. I can calculate the location by the duration of the trip if nothing else."
The Humanoid Typhoon winced, but he still didn't drop the scarf. "Uhm, yeah, about that –"
She stared at him. He wasn't telling her what she thought he was, was he? "What else did Knives stipulate?"
He didn't feign fear and cower back into the vehicle like she'd expected. More and more recently, his most predictable traits were dropping away.
"We're not exactly going to go directly there."
Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest. "Why not just hit me over the head, Vash? What is the point of cooperation between us if I am not to know something as basic as locating Knives when I need him!"
"Would you prefer to be unconscious?" The sad look was back. "I was sort of hoping we could talk during the trip, but if you'd rather –"
She took a deep, cleansing breath, her gaze scanning the alley as she considered her options. Backing out now was – well, it was unthinkable. As far as Vash had revealed, she was literally the first human that would set foot in the area that the twin Plants had decided would mark the beginning of their terraformed home. She was also the first human to receive a handwritten – well, missive, it might as well have been orders from the Engineering Federation for all the care Knives took in proper etiquette. She wasn't sure Vash had read it and she certainly hadn't offered it to him.
Vash's, on the other hand, had been made in person, and had definitely been a request.
But even carefully phrased, the twins had ultimately said the same thing. Vash and Knives needed her as a human representative to peddle their solar solution to the people of Gunsmoke as a whole. While Vash saw her as a professional, a human, and possibly an attempted friend, she was simply a tool as far as Knives was concerned. And she'd spent most of the night before considering the implications of learning the location of his 'Eden.'
This blindfold and roundabout drive there was Vash's way of giving her a way out. If she didn't really know Eden's location, there was one less reason to kill her when the project was completed.
Oddly, this was not the first time the exact same thought had been carefully weighed and measured in her relatively short lifetime. She'd previously made the decision that the project hadn't been worth her life.
There wasn't much chance of her making the same decision about this one.
But the idea of undertaking such a hideously overwhelming, technically-geared proposal without the ability to easily brainstorm with its creators was, to give it a word, asinine. If something failed with production, she'd what? Sit on her hands and wait for Knives to eventually show up, pin her to the wall and ask her why she'd stopped work?
"I can't successfully take on this project without the ability to freely communicate with the both of you," she said seriously, bringing her attention back to the patiently waiting Plant before her. "I have to have a way to collaborate with him, forward on schematics, ask questions . . . the technology you're both so accustomed to using is largely still a mystery to current engineers, as is the theory behind merging contemporary solar collection mechanisms with existing plant technology. If I can't initiate contact without you as a buffer, this project will fail."
He dropped his outstretched arms, not releasing the strip of red fabric but winding it around his hands thoughtfully. "I know it won't be easy," he said softly, and for the first time in a long time, he lowered his eyes and wouldn't meet hers. "It was wrong of me to ask for your help-" His voice sounded as though it wanted to scamper back into his throat, but he didn't let it. "I know that. I-. . . I just don't know what else to do, Elizabeth. Please."
God damn that man.
Much later, she'd wondered if he hadn't perfected that along with all the idiotic behavior in his long lifetime. For all his teasing, a simple expression of his own hopelessness was more than enough to sway the coldest of hearts.
And they'd solved that communications barrier with the letters. It was inefficient but it was better than nothing, and as condescending and clipped as his 'letters' had been, Knives had always supplied the needed information in a format that could be digested and applied despite her admittedly limited understanding of the exact function of every piece of the puzzle.
And they'd solved the production problem with the panels, thanks to a very young man named Kaite and his memory of a much more brilliant engineer.
They'd solved so many of the problems his rash promise had created.
But this one . . . this one had to take the cake.
"I hate to suggest this," and she kept her tone apologetic and her eyes on the screens, "but are you certain this equipment has been calibrated properly?"
Dr. David Greer didn't look up from his work. Though, in actuality, it would have been a down and left look. The chair had him positioned a bit awkwardly for conversation, but it didn't seem to disorient him in the least.
Hadn't his field had something to do with theoretical physics? He'd probably spent most of his research years pre-SEEDs tinkering with bulbs just like this one, trying to explain why you could pump a few cubic feet of nitrogen into a bulb and ten ounces of tin would glop out. Of course, she could almost guarantee that he'd never been working with a Plant like the one that had just come out of that bulb, or the one that had just gone in.
"Of course," he responded after a moment, with a hint of offended pride. "I ran a full reset and defaulted all the values after the removal of G-101A."
She pursed her lips, contemplating the graph. She was no expert with the biology charts, and could only guess at the fluid specs, but the numbers themselves looked familiar and right. She'd never paid much attention to them, of course, but years and years moving from plant to plant, gazing thoughtfully at the graphs she'd never gotten around to really learning, had given her the ability to see the graph as a whole and recognize it, even if each number meant nothing to her. She probably couldn't have filled in the chart if one had been handed to her blank, but nothing about those numbers really seemed extraordinary.
"I wasn't referring to this bulb," she remembered to reply, moving her attention to the attitude readings. Since the cold generator Knives was currently being installed into was logically separate from A-20034, she couldn't alter the readings she was seeing. And that separation might have been more than mere network protocol. There may literally have been no physical way to link the chair in which Dr. Greer was currently perched to A-20034's bulb for attitude adjustment.
So she did want to be certain when she spoke again.
"Your other Plant is reacting rather strongly."
She knew she'd captured his attention when she heard the telltale fizzle of a monitor's refresh to a different hertz.
And there was reason. Despite the attitude settings looking precisely correct, and to her knowledge not having been adjusted since the Plant obeyed Knives' telepathic influence , there was no doubt the ship's permanent, first generation Plant was distressed.
Not distressed enough to stop outputting energy or products. Not distressed enough to dip below or above operating parameters. Just . . . not quite right.
And upon seeing those readings, she wanted to rotate the inner bulb on its current axis by about two degrees. Any change of more than a degree would have a significant impact on production rates, so she was at a loss to determine why the Plant wasn't operating outside of normal parameters.
"Ah ah ah," the doctor murmured to himself. "Your observation is, as usual, astute. What . . ." He trailed off, obviously slowly forming the same conclusion she had.
She pulled up the logs of the last fifty configuration changes, looking over the dates as well as the adjustments themselves. No one had made more than a half-degree change in years. Though the last change was a few days ago –
She blinked and refused to let her expression change. "Can I assume change 1328 occurred when Vash actually began releasing enough energy to power the bulb?"
"You can indeed."
So she had last responded to Vash making telepathic contact, assuming he'd released his mental barriers when he'd acquiesced to produce his Angel Arm.
She glanced back at the bulb. The room was dark, dark enough that even with the spotlights on the giant bulb it was impossible to see the still form nestled within its inner curves.
Almost like a womb. Maybe it would give that miserable son of a bitch some of the comfort he obviously never had as a child.
Not that they were supposed to find out for about eight hours, though. That was supposed to have been how long it would take the sedatives and inhibitors to work out of his system. And even then, he was supposed to be kept under maintenance sedation for a few days to ensure he didn't manifest a blade and break the bulb.
She shivered slightly at the idea of a Plant-Knives emerging from that broken womb, glowing eyes even colder than his human ones, nothing but a tangle of wings and legs and scythes.
Surely he wasn't awake in there? Surely he hadn't already begun telepathic communication?
Elizabeth minimized her current document as she heard the chair hum, and within moments Dr. Greer staggered out. His age was showing; he moved stiffly and somewhat clumsily as he stepped out of the instrument.
"I need to tend to our other Angel, perhaps it's feeling abandoned," he murmured, as if to himself. "Ah, Miss Boulaise, I don't mean to be overly rude, but-"
She merely nodded, logging out of the console. "I wouldn't leave me alone in the control room either," she admitted lightly. "I don't believe your commander is overly cautious, and I do not blame him. Please don't worry."
Her words seemed to alleviate what tiny fraction of guilt he might have been considering feeling for kicking her out of the room. She would not be allowed to assist in the recalibration of A-20034, nor would she be allowed anywhere near a console that would allow her to interact with either the biological or engineering sides of G-101B until she was back beneath his supervision. The other engineers had begun treating her as a special apprentice, but she wasn't blind to their effortless indulgence.
They knew as well as she did that the thin ice she'd been pacing all along was well on its way to a spring thaw.
Dr. Greer gathered up his hand-held instruments and she did the same with the small portable computer they'd loaned her. At his nod, she exited the control room, passing two white-coated engineers that would do nothing more than monitor for changes until their return.
Of course, not being welcome around the ship's primary Plant meant that she would probably be asked nicely to return to her quarters. And as she now carried one of the ship's PDAs, she was certain, despite the lack of extremely nearby chaperones, her movements were carefully monitored by the ship's systems.
The amount of freedom she'd been given, and the short amount of time in which it had been granted, was telling. So was the commander's allowance of Aaron and Sunjy from beneath house arrest. She had requested it only because she thought she needed to in order to keep up appearances, but his eventual assent was still unexplained. Likely a gesture to make her feel as though they trusted her, and an opportunity to prove that trust misplaced.
Despite the supposed freedom, she knew that Aaron was never allowed out of sight of the more highly trained security guards. This worked absolutely in their favor. He was endearing himself to them somewhat by making pointed suggestions for improvements. While this security detail came from a fairly orderly Earth, they knew very little of the current tactics of mercenaries and thieves on Gunsmoke, and were grudgingly open to his recommendations. Particularly when he provided impromptu demonstrations.
She was probably lucky the first one hadn't gotten him killed. Now the boys had made a game out of it, and his cover as a mass of stupid, mean muscle was gradually being shifted to a mass of stupid, but slightly nicer muscle.
Sunjy, on the other hand, was having a little less luck. He was staying under the radar, which rather counterintuitively was really starting to get under Private Asouard's skin. The commander's secretary made sure there were people on him at all times. He wasn't allowed much terminal access, which had made him nearly useless to her during the logistics project save as a resource for the current costs for commercial shipping on Gunsmoke. Since the programmers were still trying to track down the source of the data deletion that would tell them whether they had a traitor on board, they were working at an alarming pace and not particularly receptive to anything the quiet man had to say.
Outside of very basic duties, the two bodyguards were allowed to keep Elizabeth company while she was in her own quarters. That was really about it.
She headed out of the generator area, talking the long, empty storage chamber in stride as she headed back to her little suite of rooms. She could probably use Sunjy's lack of progress to keep Terry's eyes blinkered to some of her or Aaron's activities. He could easily appear suspicious without actually doing anything remotely questionable. He was possibly the only man she knew that could look suspicious even while sleeping. She hated to put him in that position, but he would certainly volunteer if she asked him, and he was probably the most likely to survive it. Aaron was making friends easily enough, and she had Dr. Greer and probably Dr. Shrew wrapped around her finger.
The problem was Commander Gray. And he was, currently, an insurmountable one.
Perhaps she had cooperated too much, or revealed everything too quickly? She'd made a mistake with him at some point, but she couldn't pinpoint it. Then again, maybe it was simply that she was out of practice. She hadn't had to lie to this extent since she'd joined the Marius Breskin Kantacle Industrial Technical Union over a decade ago. Unless you counted the day she lied to discontinue her association with them and join the EF. And that hadn't been lying as much as it had been a very tactful expression of disapproval.
Perhaps it was no fault of her own. Perhaps that was just the kind of man that he was. Clearly he was as skilled as she was in manipulating people, and he certainly had more experience. Though there didn't seem to be many female officers on the ship, so perhaps she could take heart in the theory that he had encountered few women as practiced as she was, and thus couldn't read her as clearly as he seemed to.
She was also oddly glad of the fairly modest grey uniform, and the lack of makeup. Her complexion didn't need it, and it also prevented him or anyone else from misinterpreting her manner. She was getting enough looks as it was, and she was almost certain someone had had the trousers tailored specifically for her. She figured an attempted seduction was about as likely to work in her favor as Meryl Stryfe's temper tantrum had worked in hers.
Meryl.
She swallowed a sigh, and rather than turning right at the end of the corridor, she turned left. She could always use the excuse that she wanted to check in on Millie Thompson, or have her own fractured wrist looked at. There were enough reasons for her to hit the infirmary that it wouldn't look overly unusual. And it was becoming clear that at some point she was going to have to employ the assistance of the insurance investigator.
While Aaron could cover his end, with Sunjy in such a compromising position, she couldn't count on the two of them alone getting her out of this. They'd come to this ship together, and they were going to have to leave together.
If any of them were going to get out of this in their lifetimes.
She approached the main lift, waiting patiently as it sensed her and changed its travel pattern accordingly. She actually wasn't sure they hadn't fitted her with another transmitter at some point, either in the wristbrace that fit so slim and snug beneath her borrowed uniform's sleeve, or perhaps even the boots. Perhaps when she had slept one had been surgically implanted. Wherever it was, the ship's technology had become significantly easier to interact with since she'd had the chance to ditch her traveling clothes, sleep, and bathe.
The doors slid apart almost silently, and she didn't bother to hide her surprise as she caught sight of the two occupants.
"Commander, Private," she greeted, nodding her head slightly to the two men. Terry nodded back with a smile, and the commander merely gestured.
"Going up?"
She smiled and joined them in the small lift, turning to face the panel and touching the correct disc. "Yes. I was hoping to see how Miss Thompson was doing." She knew she didn't have to explain herself but it feigned intimidation, and she was willing to concede weakness as a gesture if it strengthened her position.
Pride had no place in these negotiations. And she was fooling herself if she believed that wasn't exactly what every conversation with Commander Gray was. A negotiation.
"I'm sure she and Ms. Stryfe would be happy to see you," Terry responded, in what sounded like a genuinely friendly tone of voice. "I understand she's been doing better than expected, though I'm surprised you were able to pry yourself away from her attacker . . ."
She smiled, and shifted so she could see both men without craning her neck. "We noticed an anomaly with your current production Plant, so Dr. Greer is handling maintenance and I got the afternoon off."
Terry just nodded politely. The commander was watching her with cool eyes.
"Speaking of the Plants, I wonder if I could have a word regarding your logistics predictions?"
"Of course." She could pull up the proposal on her PDA if she really wanted to, but she had a feeling she knew exactly where he was going.
"I couldn't help but notice how swiftly you were able to assemble all that data," he murmured as the doors opened. Apparently his previous destination was less important, because he actually stepped forward, indicating he was willing to walk with her towards the infirmary. Terry followed them, a few paces behind.
"I didn't have too many other options as far as spending my time was concerned," she reminded the commander, though careful to keep her voice from sounding resentful. "I'm thankful that you felt comfortable enough to allow me to participate in this project, rather than tucking me out of the way for the next few weeks."
Bryan actually chuckled. "I see," he finally responded. "We do appreciate your assistance, Ms. Boulaise, more than you know."
She looked straight ahead, projecting slight discomfort at the compliment. "If there's anything more I can do, I would be happy to offer my services."
Obviously that was the segue he wanted, because he came to a gradual stop in a fairly isolated part of the main corridor. She remained at his side, giving him a slightly wary but curious look.
"There's another portion of this project that would go more smoothly with your cooperation. I have been informed that Ms. Thompson may have had this information but will be unable to provide it to us."
She waited patiently; she'd noticed that no one ever interrupted him, and she expected that was with good reason.
His lips curled upwards slightly. "Had you worked out previous logistic projections for Millions Knives, in transporting the freed Plants to their new location?"
Now it was Elizabeth's turn to smile. "It wasn't needed. Vash acted as the transportation. Obviously, being a Plant himself, a good deal of the safeguards and the bulk of the equipment were unnecessary."
The commander nodded, and began walking again. After a moment she followed him.
"So you were never part of installing the Plants in their new bulbs?"
That was a good point, and one she'd made herself. Plants in general weren't supposed to survive well outside of the bulb. The brown material that Vash so carefully wrapped them in was a super-refined nylon that was as soft as baby's skin to the touch, and even that probably caused them discomfort. Even the humanoid twins could be sunburned, could die from exposure. She hated to think what a shock it must have been for those Plants their first night out in the actual environment.
"I don't think they were installed into new bulbs," she admitted. "When I last saw Eden, I saw no evidence of bulbs or a structure large enough to hold them. I also didn't see any freely roaming Plants, excluding Vash and Knives, of course."
He nodded slowly, assimilating what she'd revealed.
"Of course, there was too much foliage to see a great distance," she added, almost as an afterthought. "I have no doubt they were there. Vash would have told me if one of their sisters had died."
"Eden," he repeated softly.
The first time she'd seen it, she'd been staggered by it. That had been only a few months into the project, so she'd expected some grass, a few buildings reminiscent of a SEEDs ship, and a nice little pond. What she had seen was something out of a fairy tale. Emerald carpeting as far as the eye could see. A fresh feeling in the air, the softest sound of something she'd never heard in her life, but could listen to until the end of time.
The trees, she'd later learned. Millions of leaves rubbing against one another in the breeze, rather than the few hundred that whispered in the geoplants she'd visited.
But never in either of the visits she'd made to that place had she ever seen the Plants. Just the main chamber of the house, and Knives.
"It was in Meryl's reports, I'm sure," she supplied. "That Vash the Stampede had laid claim to land and forbidden anyone from trespassing, on pain of rampage. That was the land they set aside to terraform. It's . . . quite a sight. Beautiful."
"How often did you visit?"
She stopped them, then, turning to face him directly. "Once I reveal the location to you, will I continue to have a role in this relocation project?"
An amused glint came to his eyes. "Of course. Why would you think otherwise?"
"I've been a woman in a man's world for some time now." It wasn't really her shtick, but given the radical tipping of male to female officers, she was fairly sure it would ring true to his Earth-bound ears and political understanding. "The only reason I remain a premiere Plant engineer on this planet is because I hold my card close to my chest, so to speak."
Bryan paused before inclining his head. "And I've given you so little reason to trust me?"
She appeared to chew on that a moment. "If you agree to release me and my men without harm after Knives has stabilized in the bulb, I'll make the proposal. I was the one that uninstalled those Plants, and I'd like to have a hand in replacing them."
He blinked, then shook his head with a more fully formed smile. "You'd be setting back your own timetable several days with that delay."
She raised an eyebrow. "Do you suppose using satellites to find the green blob on the brown planet will be any faster?"
They were only a few yarz from the infirmary doors, and Bryan looked at them consideringly for a moment. "We need those Plants found before they scatter to the wind."
"I doubt they can. Knives would never have left if they weren't safe. And safe would mean somehow restricted to his borders."
She'd already thrown that tidbit into her logistical projection. That Knives had employed human slaves or possibly something more complex as a security system to ensure his sisters were provided for until his return. Obviously the commander recalled that particular detail, because he didn't pursue it farther. In fact, she'd somehow lost his attention entirely.
"I apologize for delaying your visit with your friend. Thank you for speaking so frankly with me," he murmured, walking her to the infirmary door before inclining his head.
"We'll discuss this more seriously another time."
"Of course," she agreed, and he was gone.
Elizabeth glanced around the infirmary hall, noting the room labels and proceeding accordingly. She needed to check in on Doc, they couldn't very well leave him here when they made their escape. Unfortunately, Vash's attack had been the talk of the engineers, and it had led her to believe that the elderly man was probably incapable of getting up, let alone actually assisting them. Still, he might know something about the ship or its systems that could be useful. Possibly he'd even gathered a password or two along the way.
He would have to be her second stop, though. Her excuse had been Millie Thompson, and after the conversation she'd just had, she had better find a reason to spend at least a half-hour with the other girl.
Which could make for one incredibly unpleasant half-hour, if Meryl were still keeping vigil.
Elizabeth tried not to square her shoulders as she picked out the appropriate patient room, and the doors opened as she approached them.
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Author's Note: Sorry this second half was so late! It was ridiculously hard to write, for some reason, and real life snuck up, clobbered me over the head, and went through my pockets for all my spare time. :slightly dazed: It's also by far the shortest of the chapters, but I promise it was all necessary. Isn't it amazing how little I can actually accomplish in so many words?
To my new readers, welcome! Thank you all for the lovely reviews. You guys are too wonderful, and I appreciate every one. And that thing you're all going to hate me for is not going to happen for at LEAST five more chapters. Stupid me thought that I'd be finished with this thing at fifteen chapters . . .