TES FRIGATE PHOENIX
ENROUTE ILMNOS, IALESSA SYSTEM
LATE OCTOBER 2188
THE VOICES CAME AND WENT, and Flynn didn't recognize any of them. He remembered a great deal of pain, no small modicum of rage… and stars?
The shape they were in…
I can't believe they survived it… apparently carried him the whole way…!
Injuries were extensive, may be a while before he regains consciousness…
He'd thought he'd heard Duke speak, but he knew he couldn't really trust that and didn't bother trying to follow any particular conversations. He'd also thought he'd heard Miranda's voice at one point but he dismissed that as likely just his own weariness playing tricks on his mind. He remembered his ship the Red Mane so nearly crushed but not, telling his VI to get him out and into orbit. He remembered another ship, but nothing after. Then more voices.
But now, silence again, and Flynn found he preferred it. He didn't hurt any longer, but the ghost of the pain lingered in aches more remembered than felt, and weariness had never felt so good. Too tired, he just faded back into sleep. The universe could go hang for a few hours.
Winston Black had fared better than his friend. He'd awakened just as the Phoenix's 'afternoon' chime had sounded through the ship. The medbay smelled clean and the air crisply scrubbed, a faint scent of a subtle perfume in the air. Somehow he'd expected it. Even on a ship full of women and all highly-trained professionals, they held fast to their femininity. It was something Duke genuinely admired about women. His idea of hell would have been a universe without women and the very idea made him shudder. Feeling reasonably strong, he sat up in his bed and calmly watched Hoshiko-san finish her scan of Flynn. Duke had only suffered a concussion and a broken leg, a few hairline fractures here and there. A printed fiber cast would protect his leg until the bones knit and still allow him to move about. Hoshiko-san smiled at him when she turned from Flynn's still-unconscious form.
Well, Duke thought with a smile, I really do like capable women.
"Kon'nichiwa," he said, giving it a shot, his Japanese not as good as he'd have liked. "Watashi wa, anata wa watashi no keizoku-teki kenkō no tame ni kansha shinakereba naranai?
Hoshiko-san seemed taken aback a moment, then pleasantly surprised and replied in kind.
"Watashi wa koko de ishadesu, hai. Anata wa kanjite yoidesu ka?"
Black nodded his head in a slight bow, and replied, "Haruka ni yoi, arigatōgozaimashita. Watashi no hidoi nihonjin no I o owabi mōshiagemasu."
"Not at all," Hoshiko-san said, switching back to Standard. "It's refreshing to hear it."
"One cannot always rely on implants," Black informed her with his most charming smile. "Technology is fine, but I prefer the ability to go without, if necessary. We were trained in the N7's to speak several and I find it more personal and intimate to use it when I can." Hoshiko-san seemed to pick up on his meaning, and her smile broadened. Nice to see he still had it.
"A wise policy." She ran her omnitool over him, voice confirming her interest. Black congratulated himself. "You are mending …well, and I believe you can be discharged at any time – or whenever you feel able."
"Thank you. My friend?"
"He will be here a bit longer. He had several broken ribs, a rather severe head injury and a punctured lung. He also had several minor fractures in his cervical vertebrae, but nothing we couldn't repair." Hoshiko-san frowned at the Irishman. "If I may say so, he is an extremely stubborn man. I had to use a remote med-drone to render him unconscious."
"Well, he is Irish," Duke said, amused by the idea of the drone. Flynn had never been a fan of doctors. That innate stubbornness had even extended to their arrival on the Phoenix. They'd looked like two wraiths from some horrific netherworld disembarking. Even though he'd been worse off, still Flynn insisted – profanely – that he carry Duke to the infirmary.
"I got th' bastard here, an' I'll take 'im to th' end!" he'd snarled, half-delirious. Only when Duke had been secured and his treatment begun did Flynn relent – more or less.
"He is responding to treatment well," she said, adjusting a control to the monitor beside Flynn's bed. "I am actually rather surprised by how well."
"In my days with him in our squad, he was called 'anbureikaburu'," he told her. "He'd saved us all more than once with his seeming invulnerability. Some thought he'd had some gene-mods done, but he swears otherwise."
"I detected none." She ran another quick scan for her report to Commander Lawson. "It is likely simply a natural ability." Winston glanced around the medbay and noticed Kassidi gone.
"My quarian friend? She's been discharged?"
"Yes. She was only suffering a minor concussion. She's been working with Asha'Rhaal to mine that data she brought from Kahje."
Duke nodded, watched her move and found he liked it. He shook certain thoughts from his head as unworthy and greedy then asked instead, "You said I could be discharged?"
"If you feel capable," she replied. "I recommend you attempt to avoid any too-strenuous activity for the next few days, if possible." He heard the invitation in her voice and logged it away for future reference.
"Unfortunately that can be never guaranteed, but I shall certainly attempt it." He swung his legs – slowly – over the edge of the bed, tested his weight on the rendered cast and found it satisfactory.
"Your effects are in that locker, there." Hoshiko-san pointed out, sensing the change in his mood. He was a handsome man, but she was no child nor a fool. "They've been cleaned."
"Thank you." Black gathered them. Gingerly he pulled them on. Hoshiko-san sat at her desk and tried not to watch. Black had a lean yet densely packed frame with virtually no body fat, his back laced with ancient silver scars. Hoshiko-san compared his form to a dancer, long and lean but tremendously strong. He was buckling his vest over when Miranda, Shizuka and Ilola Jamilah entered the sickbay.
Hoshiko-san went to Miranda with her report. Shizuka and Jamilah approached Black, the latter giving him an appreciative smile.
"You look good," Jamilah told him, looking him up and down.
"You have a discerning eye," he replied, trying the same charming smile on her. She laughed. Shizuka gave him a nod which was returned then gave Jamilah an odd look, crossed her arms and watched Duke finish. She'd only come to see how he was doing – or so she'd stated.
"Should you be getting up?" she asked, passingly concerned.
"My doctor says I can if I like. I like." Shizuka just nodded, knew he knew himself well enough.
"I had a good look at the weapons you two brought back with you," Jamilah continued, pulling the purloined rifle into view. "Thought you'd want to hear about it."
"You work quickly. I was understandably curious." Black sat again, pulled his boots on. Fortunately the tight-fitting nature of the cast, shaped to his leg and foot, allowed the boot to go on with relative ease. Jamilah rolled the gun in her hands as she spoke.
"This thing isn't even remotely what I'd call 'conventional'. Alliance R&D had toyed with this stuff years ago but could never make a practical go of it. From what I can tell, it fires a layered energy beam that gets routed through a series of microscopic mirrors, which just crazy-boosts it. It has two crystalline focusing arrays in the barrel that split the beam then recombine it before release. Whoever built this was a damned genius because she managed to create a dark energy charging system. I was honestly salivating when I was scanning this thing. The tech is unbelievable – this thing never needs to be recharged."
Black looked up at that.
"What? Never?"
"That's unlikely," Shizuka added, looking at the weapon with more interest.
"I'm not sure how, but this thing charges itself just sitting there – and it hits like five tons of hell."
"Flynn had said even a near-miss nearly tore his arm off – or something to that effect."
"Doesn't surprise me. If we could mass produce these, the remaining Reaper forces wouldn't stand a snowball's chance on a sun."
"Did you take it apart?" Shizuka asked. Jamilah shook her head.
"Didn't dare. Did as intense a scan as I could, got the whole thing modelled in the computer but the security features to prevent duplication on this thing look lethal."
"That follows." Duke told her, standing carefully now that he was completely dressed. The cast took his weight well. "Could they be bypassed?"
Jamilah considered, looked dubious.
"With extreme care… maybe."
Miranda and Hoshiko-san joined them then.
"I'm glad to see you up," Miranda told him. "You had us worried." Black smiled.
"I didn't dare die. If I had, Flynn would have probably beaten me back to life." Miranda looked back to Hoshiko-san who yawned suddenly. She'd been in the medbay since the men had been brought in.
"Please excuse me."
"You've been here a long time, Hoshiko-san. Go get some rest," Miranda ordered. Hoshiko-san nodded, grateful.
"Thank you."
"Flynn's over the worst of it?" Miranda asked, voice carefully neutral.
"The rest depends entirely on Mr. Flynn himself." Hoshiko-san said as she vanished through the door.
"He's a tough bastard, I'll give him that," Shizuka agreed. She directed her next to Duke. "He carried you the whole way?"
"He did."
"Why did you risk yourself by going back?" Shizuka's disdain for the idea was plain. "You're needed here."
"We were brothers." Duke reminded her quietly. "We are still. I have not forgotten that – and neither has he." Shizuka's face was unreadable.
"If you say so." Shizuka didn't like the look of pity in his eyes. It was nothing she could ever explain. Some things hurt out of proportion with their infliction, and Akilah Shizuka had never been very good with pain. Duke seemed to dismiss her in his mind, which she also didn't like. Some constants she'd grown used to and she was starting to notice the change.
Duke smiled at Jamilah who returned it. Duke gave it about five more seconds of thought then made a decision.
"If there are no objections, I feel fit enough to take care of myself from here on out."
"There's none from me," Jamilah said jokingly, the look she sent him plain. He returned it.
Shizuka saw Jamilah's smile and frowned. That was pretty damn quick.
Duke turned back to Miranda.
"I should add to what's been said that that ship and the soldiers on New Chamberlain were unlike any mercenaries I've seen. From what little I saw in the aftermath the weapon that destroyed the colony was thorough and no technology I've even heard of, let alone encountered before." Miranda agreed.
"That follows. It fits the patterns of previous reports."
"As I suspected." He glanced back at Jamilah. "If you'll excuse me…?" and made to go. "I'd like to discuss this weapon with you further, Gunnery Chief."
Jamilah nodded, her demeanour professional but her eyes smiling.
"Certainly."
"One more thing," Miranda interjected. "We've received word from Dr. T'soni and changed our rendezvous to her personal residence – she calls it the 'Bastion'. It's extremely well-hidden and very well-protected. She's offered it as a base of operations. It should be secure against any more… incidences. Councillor Hackett also assures me that Alliance ships will be stepping up patrols after this."
"Very generous all round." Duke replied, stopping. "Anything further on that ship?"
"It was seen exiting the system, then it vanished. It's using a propulsion system the likes of which no one has ever seen before."
"That's consistent with the earlier reports, yes?" Miranda nodded to his question. "We are still a step behind here. We need to know the precise nature of this threat."
"Dr. T'soni 'assures' me that answers are forthcoming, but she refused to be more specific over comms. She seemed very definite."
"A step forward perhaps." He amended. Behind her Shizuka was still frowning at him. Even frowning, she was as beautiful to him as she had ever been but Duke's dreams reluctantly no longer included her. What he wished for and what he wanted were too often at odds, and if Akilah ever actually knew how he'd really felt about her, she'd never indicated that it mattered. Perhaps it was uncharitable to the other women he'd pursued, but it boiled down to if he could not achieve his dream, he would simply fulfil his fantasies. He never lied to them however, although he suspected he may have lied to himself on too many occasions. Akilah was wedded to a memory and there was no competing with that. He had learned far too many lessons on that he'd wished he hadn't.
"I'd like a full report given to Asha'Rhaal when you feel up to it."
"On everything I remember. I fear it won't be much."
"Anything will help." She added as he and Jamilah exited the room.
Miranda turned to check on Flynn for herself, was surprised to see Shizuka actually near him, face neutral but with eyes surging with unidentifiable emotions. The hard cast fell over them when she noticed Miranda watching her.
"I thought you came only to check on Duke," Miranda accused lightly.
"You have a history with him, don't you?" Shizuka asked unexpectedly, indicating Flynn with a motion of her head. Miranda blinked in surprise. "I have ears, I have eyes."
"I don't know if you can call it a 'history'." Miranda stepped closer to Flynn's bed, looked over his sleeping face. He had crinkle lines around his eyes she'd not noticed before. "I certainly don't hate him as much as you seem to, however."
Shizuka bristled at that indignantly.
"Hate? I'm no child, Lawson. I don't hate him. We've been through far too much for me to hate him. I don't. He's saved my life any number of times." She looked down at her once-comrade. "Like Duke said… I did think of him as a brother, once. We were soldiers together, that's how it goes…" Shizuka rubbed her face and seemed pained to admit it. "He used to tell the funniest damn stories…"
"If it's not hate – what is it?" Miranda pressed, her curiosity overriding her better judgement. The Hammer sighed, looked back down at the unconscious Flynn. As Duke and Flynn were brothers-in-arms, so had she and Flynn been – once. She'd loved him in that way, and she honestly remembered it, honestly still had it – somewhere, down deep locked away.
You just didn't forget. She couldn't forget. It simply was a facet to her reality she didn't want to face. Not if she could help it. Not yet.
"I was… disappointed. My faith shaken. I was hurt." She said softly, almost as if she were talking to Flynn then seemed to fall into some kind of reverie. Her features softened, her eyes went distant but she quickly snapped out of it. "It's none of your business." She sniffed, straightened up. "If you're smart, you'll dump him and his crate on the nearest Wildcat Asteroid and forget him."
Dry as the drell homeworld, Miranda replied, "I'll take that under advisement."
"Suit yourself," Shizuka snapped, then stalked from the medbay. Miranda watched her go, in a way gratified that she'd learned more – even if it had been inadvertent on her part – about the driven woman. She knew how it felt to be driven, to be so focused you sometimes focused on things you might have resolved otherwise and never being satisfied. Miranda understood having outstanding issues, did she ever. One of those issues lay quietly before her, one she'd never resolved, one she was wondering now as to the possibilities therein, as anxious as they seemed to make her. She and Flynn, fire and ice, oil and water, day and night.
Miranda had been a study in competing tensions when her shuttle had returned from their search for the two men to discover that they beaten them back to the Phoenix by several minutes. She'd been both angry and glad he – they – were alive. Seeing him lying there, as hurt as he was… well, it had shaken her more than she thought it should have, more than she should have allowed. It had been years ago. There shouldn't have been any way he should still affect her so much.
Yet he did. Then. Now. Miss-Always-In-Control seemed to lose her grip on it when he was within a light-year of her. It said something, but she wasn't at all certain she wanted to know what.
It had been for only eight days. Eight. No. Don't go back there, don't think about it. Without realizing she'd done it, Miranda had reached over and brushed a lock of his ginger hair from his face, caught herself and cursed her own impulses. Maybe Shizuka was right. It might be better to just…
"You idiot…" she muttered, a small part of her wondering to just whom she was referring. "What am I going to do with you?"
"A massage …would be noice…" His voice was weak, but he was definitely awake. Miranda couldn't have been more surprised if he'd suddenly leapt to his feet and started to jig on the spot. "But a drink o' feckin' water would nae hurt neither…."
"Flynn…!" She started and smiled without thinking.
"How …long?" He asked as his eyes opened, their normally vibrant green dulled with pain and medication. Miranda gave him a drink, which he accepted without comment. She'd forgotten how resilient he could be, but even this seemed to be pushing belief.
"Half a day. You're on my ship."
"Duke?" Flynn sounded depleted. She didn't doubt it.
"Fixed and functioning. He'll only need a couple of days to completely heal. You'll need longer." He shook his head and immediately looked as if he regretted doing it.
"I can heal jus' as easy on me own ship," he said, huffing in a few breaths. His lungs felt like they'd been run over a cheese grater a few times and his entire body hurt, but it was serviceable – if barely – and that was enough for him.
"Don't be stupid," she told him, crossing her arms. "You're not going anywhere."
"Aye, but I think I will." With a groan he sat up, clutched his head. Miranda gave up and let him. He swayed slightly. He looked as if he'd vomit, but it passed. It wasn't until he'd actually had a foot on the floor that Miranda moved forward to push him back. Despite his bulk, he went down easy.
"That's far enough, Flynn. Don't be so damn stubborn, you thick-headed…!" One hand clamped around her wrist with surprising strength. He pulled her close until their noses almost touched.
"Ain't no bastard in this universe tells me where ta go – an' tha' includes you." Miranda pulled her wrist from his grip. Men, she thought with feminine disdain at the whole gender, Some things they just had to learn for themselves, all we can do is ready fire suppression and emergency services. She huffed and stepped back, not wanting to be that close for reasons that had nothing to do with her current state of mind. Stubborn is as stubborn did, and she knew stubborn.
"Fine. Go." She took another few steps back as he lay there and watched her. Miranda made a sweeping motion. "I'm serious. There's the bloody door."
Flynn, in a surprising show of strength, got to his feet and actually managed the door before his body agreed with Miranda that the attempt was rather stupid and stopped him. He braced himself against the wall and panted, his body feeling as if it had been punched multiple times by a giant fist.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" When he didn't move, she stalked after him. Not being at all gentle, she hit the door control and shoved him through it as it opened. He grunted in pain as he grabbed the doorjamb to keep from falling. "Get off my ship!"
"A'roight, fine!" Flynn muttered, pain arcing up and down inside him. "Ye made yer point."
Miranda bent close, grabbed his arm and pulled him around to look at her.
"I can't hear you! What did you say?" He winced at the volume.
"I said ye made yer bloody point!"
Miranda stepped away to cock her head at him, plant hands on hips.
"Well, now – there is a semblance of sense in that thick-boned cavern you call a head." She counted to twenty, then pointed to his bed. "Get back in bed. Now."
Flynn crutch-walked his way back to it using the medbay furniture to get there. Miranda followed, but didn't aid him. He finally made it to the bed where he slumped against it.
"Thanks fer the help," he said sarcastically, feeling like he'd collapse any second.
"I'd have kicked you in the arse, but I didn't want to damage your brain." She didn't come near again until he'd pulled himself into bed and lay there staring at the ceiling until his breathing evened out. "I rule here, mister. Don't you forget it."
Flynn just stared at her, then smiled slightly.
"Some thin's never change."
"Some things don't need to, and don't forget that, either."
"I won' stay longer'n I have ta." His pride had him say, for his own satisfaction.
"Of course you won't." She told him, face guileless.
"Wha's tha' suppos'd ta mean?" He snapped, remembering the past a little too vividly. This woman always had nerve to spare. He didn't expect repentant weeping and a cilice, but a little regret would have went a long way. She obviously hadn't cared or cared to remember. Flynn could take a lot, but one thing he refused to be was dismissed.
"What it sounds like." Figures.
"C'n never bleedin' tell with you," he grumbled, pain diverting him from the argument. "Yer all alike."
"'We all'? All of us who, exactly?"
"Don' be tryin' to trap me with semantics! It's how ye always bloody won!"
"Won? What am I trying to win?" she countered, remembering their meeting before the colony had been destroyed. Flynn grimaced, deciding to just be silent and glare at her. She relented then, slightly.
"You and your ship are both damaged beyond practical functionality, Flynn. It was lucky it got you here in the first place. You take my offer and I'll have my people fix it – or I can dump the two of you into space and you can both float. I don't have time for this. You saw it – you were there. This is an imminent threat."
Flynn thought about it and also relented – to a point.
"Ye know who they were then?"
"No, not yet." He sent her a skeptical look.
"They attack anything strategic?"
"Well, no, not yet. But attacking a colony…"
"An unsanctioned wildcat miner hole," he reminded her.
"It fits the pattern I showed you." She crossed her arms while giving him a stern look, then decided. "My offer still stands," she told him, "though I should probably have my bloody head examined."
"Yer a hard woman," he tiredly told her, but it wasn't a recrimination.
"No, I'm not, and you know I'm not." She took a step back toward him. "Choose."
"Float n' sputter or join a ship full o' hostiles. I've always loved havin' choices that were nae choices a'tall."
"Oh, stop being so bloody dramatic. You are not on a ship of 'hostiles'."
"I don' stay where I'm nawt wanted." He smiled a sardonic smile. "An' ye canna afford me."
"You're probably right," She admitted. "But I'll take the chance." She waited. "Well?"
Flynn put his head down as he seemed to go away for a moment then came back. He rolled his head to look at her, his voice soft and earnest, carrying real regret and pain.
"What did I do that was so bad?"
"I… don't know …what you mean," she lied, the question shaking her. The wonder in his voice was genuine, the confusion real. There was an undercurrent of melancholy to it she didn't understand. Yes, it had not ended perhaps as either might have wanted, but she couldn't see what she had done to earn his anger and resentment. It was never easy with a man who refused to give you a bloody centimetre. She could see him waiting, see that he wanted an actual answer. She wasn't sure she had one.
With a sigh, he slumped back into the pillow, turned away.
"Nevermind," he said, sounding final.
No. Miranda needed to know what he thought has actually happened. Something was not jibing here. What he'd done? He'd done something Miranda Lawson at the time had never experienced before. Something she admitted to herself she'd reacted to poorly; that in retrospect she was beginning to think she should have done very differently. But, looked at honestly… Damn it. He deserved an answer.
"You were… you." She told him gently, hoping he'd get what she actually meant. He stared at her a few long moments, then looked away.
"Aye." He seemed to deflate further, and she couldn't tell if it were just he being exhausted or something else. He closed his eyes and said nothing for a while. Miranda thought he'd fallen asleep and certainly didn't begrudge him for it. She waited a bit longer then decided to go.
She was halfway to the door when she heard him softly say, "Fine. But I'm only here for Duke's sake."
There was something in his voice she took for a challenge. He seemed to think he was dealing with the Miranda Lawson of all those years ago. He was not, and she was still debating whether she should show him. In the meantime, she'd play his damn game.
She liked a challenge and she liked being one.
"You can call it whatever you like." Miranda told him in her best haughty voice, as the door sliced open before her.
"I want it in writin' this time an' I guaran-bloody-tee I'm gonna be fookin' expensive." A contract was a contract, no? He'd learned from the last time, most definitely. There'd be no up and walking away from this time.
Miranda turned in the doorway to send him a look he couldn't decipher. Her voice, however, had just a hint of mockery.
"Cibé," she told him in Gaelic, and Flynn found himself smiling as the door closed behind her. Irish luck indeed. He put his head back down. Things were different were they? We'll just see.
On the other side of the medbay door, Miranda pulled in a deep breath then let it out in a tired sigh.
"You were you," she told herself softly. "and I was me and we still are, damn it."
Asha'Rhaal called her to the Operations Centre and Miranda just shook her head and started walking.
"I just wish I knew what that meant."
Flynn, for his part, was fast asleep.