SIX DEGREES

A Gunslinger Girl fanfiction, based on works by Yu Aida.

Chapter 14|Six Degrees of Separation

The world heaved.

Where was he?

He had been knelt in Nanking Queen's hold…

The world moved again, less this time, settling into a gentle sway, bringing with it searing pain and setting his stomach churning. It would be easier just to sink back down into oblivion…

"You finally awake?"

The descent stopped. That voice he knew. That voice he couldn't sink away from, he wanted closer, pain and nausea be damned. Suddenly easy darkness did not seem so welcoming and, latching onto those words, he clung to them as reality came rushing back in.

Jethro groaned.

"About time you were up."

Head lolling over, he peeled open clammy eyes to peer blearily around. Someone had placed him on a rather dank mattress, the only berth in this compact, wood panelled, cabin. Katherine was slumped at a small table, sprawling across it beneath the dim glow of a solitary bulb, apparently still unconscious.

Closer, another chair had been placed at his side, Monty studying him quietly from it, one slender leg crossed over the other.

He groaned again, words finally croaking from dry vocal chords. "How long was I out?"

"A couple of hours."

At his back, one still bound hand groped across the opposite wrist, finding cool, angular, metal. Apparently they had been nice enough to leave him his watch at least. Curling up he wiggled arms forward, trying to get them under tucked legs and sending a fresh wave of nausea crashing over him… though actually reading it would need to wait for another time.

Letting that queasy bout pass, he took another deep breath, before hauling himself upright, surroundings blurring again and, panting, Jethro turned to look at his partner.

She hadn't moved, face still impassive.

"How about you? How long were you out?"

"Not long, I woke up on the way here," he was treated to a thin smile, "seems someone didn't hit me quite hard enough."

So, she had been awake the entire time. Looking closer, he could just make out strain edging delicate features. Supreme self-control or no, she remained a cyborg, and those few hours wondering would have been hard on her. Not to mention that was two solid hits to the head in one day, something which wold need checking over next they were in Rome...

Glancing around the room again, his eyes swung past the apparently still slumbering Katherine.

…though here was not the place to voice that thought.

Gaze settling once more on his partner, he raised brows questioningly, and her reply was quick coming.

"We can talk, quietly. I already checked for bugs, but there is at least one guard on the door. I suspect Charlie is somewhat shorthanded."

Now he gave her a wry grin of his own, sliding further along the bare mattress to lean closer. "Good, what else can you tell me?"

"Not a whole lot," the words accompanied a sardonic expression, "but we seem to be headed south, at a guess toward Borneo or Sulawesi."

"He might not even need to go that far, plenty of places to quietly lose oneself down here." Giving a beat to change subject, Jethro's voice lowered. "Can you break the cuffs?"

"Probably, but I was going to give it a little longer. We've been underway for a bit now, so it's only a matter of time before our host comes visiting, and when he does it would probably behove me to remain bound."

'And I couldn't risk acting with you two still out', added Jethro in the privacy of his own head. Hopefully his tardy return to consciousness had not put them in even deeper hot water.

Any thoughts toward sharing that opinion were however cut short by a groan from the table. Conversation halting momentarily, two pairs of eyes swung toward Katherine as she peeled herself from its surface to slouch back in her chair, gazing drunkenly around their cabin.

"Nice of you to join us."

Monty's tone was dry, and the reply was still half grumble.

"Oh leave it out..." the SIS agent paused, squeezing eyes shut briefly and shaking her head as if struggling to focus, before continuing, "…I didn't see either of you doing much toward saving our collective arses."

Jethro's gaze flicked toward his girl, suddenly badly wishing for use of his hands. Any retort was however thought better of, and she instead heaved a sigh. "Well, not all of us are interested in channelling Boudicca."

The spy held his breath, silence filled only with the quiet creaks and mechanical throb of a ship underway. Finally though, a wry chuckle issued from the table, and the woman there slumped forward, head clonking against its wooden surface, before she rolled sideways to study them once more.

"Touché. Alright, so where are we at?"

It did not take long for Monty to repeat her rundown and, as she finished, the other raised her eyebrows.

"And so what time is it now? I would offer you my watch, but I think it's been nicked."

Closer inspection revealed her wrists to indeed be bare. "I take it then you are a better patron of Q-Branch's arts than I ever was."

"Don't know, am I?"

Twisting in his seat, Jethro waited while Monty read the brown 3-Timer currently at his back.

"Just gone four."

"In the morning?"

"No, it's just a particularly dark afternoon."

More silence as sarcasm trailed away. Jethro did not trust himself to stand just yet but, scooting closer his partner, he leaned forward to plant lips on the top of her head.

Katherine, however, gave a resigned sigh. "Yes, alright… but, that still gives us an hour or two of darkness to work in, and I would like to be back on deck sooner rather than later."

"And achieve what, precisely?" The girl's tone was dry again. "Lest you'd not noticed, there are still only three of us, and this ship is crawling with Charlie's cronies… a problem I might add, we only have through charging in without a plan in the first place."

"Yes, and if they'd not arrived we'd be guests of the Italians instead. Or dead. At least now the pair of them have had a chance to thin each other out."

"Only barely, and all escaping now will serve is to alert what remains earlier. Let Charlie come gloat a little, I presume he will, then we can look to making an exit."

Whatever retort had been forming on Katherine's lips was cut short by the sound of footsteps outside, followed by muffled speech and, putting a little distance between himself and his partner once more, Jethro slouched against the bunk's backing bulkhead. More voices, but then there was the sound of a latch retracting, and the door swung open.

In her chair, Monty's eyes narrowed as Martin stepped through. Some time since their last meeting he had gained an MP5, held low but ready as Charlie followed, still not a hair out of place. Glancing past however, she was granted a glimpse into the passageway beyond, a single commando standing guard.

Apparently the Far East head of station also noticed her interest as, pausing, he turned to say something through the opening, before sealing it softly behind.

Even so, that seemed to support her theory that the Station H contingent remained shorthanded.

Any further musings would however need to wait as, pulling out the cabin's final remaining chair, Charlie settled himself atop it, studying his captives over steepled fingers, content to let them contemplate the gravity of their situation. In her own seat, Monty took up a pose of mirrored nonchalance, or as close as manageable with hands still bound, returning his gaze with polite interest.

When he finally spoke however, it was not to her.

"Well it's nice you are finally up, Blacker. Frankly I was hoping for sooner, but I guess I can't expect too much… especially as I see you remain content to play Algy's gopher. How long has it been now? Five? Six? Years since exiting Her Majesty's coddling bosom? And you've still not left his shadow."

The girl concentrated on keeping her face impassive. Glancing toward her partner would be a mistake but, when his reply came, it remained calm.

"When it's mutually beneficial I really don't mind."

The words hung, but the response was not what she had expected, Charlie's expression changing not to anger or scorn, but rather a pitying Cheshire Cat grin. The smug condescension of someone with a secret and, for the first time since Jethro had come around, she felt an edge of unease.

"I always knew you were dense Blacker, but I had not reckoned as to just how dense. Did you still think you are here of your own volition? That your old master had thrown you a bone to avenge sadly deceased Nick and Shamus? If so I have bad news, because if that was your intent you could have stopped searching weeks ago." Pausing, his focus changed, locking to their companion. "Isn't that right, Katherine?"

The woman's eyes narrowed and, when they came, her words were cold.

"Be very careful what you say next, Wilkes."

Monty's mind however was racing: if Charlie was aware of Nick and Shamus, then that meant the SIS had been far better informed back to, at least, Monaco, than previously thought. The real concern though was how much more they knew: did they just get lucky to join the story at that point? Or did their knowledge run deeper? If Monaco were still viewed as a group of crooks acting up that was fine but, if SWA involvement came to light…

Charlie was talking again.

"Believe me, girl, Official Secrets is going to be the least of my worries should Vauxhall catch up now. Besides, I don't see why you are so concerned, all you did was pull the trigger…" now he turned back to Jethro, face hardening, "…that, and screw up so thoroughly Algernon felt he need parachute in a decoy. Fortunately for him some people are predictable enough to be used like that, and oblivious enough to not realise it."

Using the momentary distraction, Monty glanced sideways, catching her partner's face in the corner of an eye, rigid and impassive. She could however see fists working behind him, and with an effort she held her own expression blank: Jethro was rarely agitated, particularly over personal attacks. Whatever Charlie had said, it must have struck a nerve, and he wasn't finished yet, voice starting to take on the contemptuous snarl it had worn in Nanking Queen's hold.

"Jethro Blacker, so trusting of those he believes to be on his side. Well now I hope you realise you were never more than a tool for Algernon, just like you were for the rest of Vauxhall. At least when I found one of your few uses I was nice enough to be up front about it; though I'll admit knocking Algy down a notch or two was at least as enjoyable as throwing you out."

The hands had stopped now, their owner apparently back in control and, when he spoke, his voice was almost conversational.

"I imagine removing two obstacles from your own advancement didn't hurt either, and let you bring your lap dog there along for the ride. School ground insecurities never do quite go away do they?"

The smile froze, but only for an instant, before spreading itself across the Station Head's face once more. "Blacker, any public school would have thrown you out, and whichever slum you actually attended should have, but I'm glad to see you are still capable of grasping the simpler facts of life. You gone, Algernon exiled to Panama, a befittingly useless posting; that was indeed two more obstacles removed, ones which should never have been present in the first place… and far better off the SIS was for it. I had sort of expected bad rubbish would eventually fade from the collective conscious, and it almost did…" now, the snarl returned, and he rounded on Monty, "…except you happened."

Carefully maintaining her air of polite interest, the girl raised a questioning eyebrow. That only seemed to infuriate him more, the man stalking over, glaring down at her insolently calm face.

"Bane of my existence you are. Jethro Blacker's bloody mystery girl. Hundreds of women come and go, no-one bats and eyelid, then you show up and suddenly a name which should have fallen silent is back on every set of gossiping lips. I swear more of Vauxhall knows 'Jethro Blacker' now than when he actually worked in the place."

"Why do you care? I get the distinct impression you don't intend on returning."

The voice came from beside her, and flashing eyes snapped toward it. "Who said anything about not returning? Vauxhall still holds plenty of opportunity, and I've worked too bloody hard to give that up now, but there is nothing wrong with going back a richer man. Forgeries are easy to trace, but high bidders can pay in gold, and that is much more flexible."

"So you're worried then someone might start digging around my name, and uncover a whiff of truth. Some smart people working for Lizzy."

The flashing gaze remained, but no words accompanied it this time and, a heartbeat later, towering fury seemed to ebb away. Stepping back, Charlie brushed down his suit, face returning to its previous air of contemptuous superiority.

"Truth, Blacker, is a fickle mistress, and one whom ultimately sells herself to the winners, among whom you are not. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other things to attend to."

"Nice to know I still warrant enough regard to be worth a visit."

"Let it never be said I am not a gentleman, and it only seemed polite to pop by in welcome, but worry not, there will be… further discussions."

With that he turned toward the door, signalling Martin to follow as he knocked once, and the Station H party filed out, room sealing again with a clack of timber.

For a moment silence reigned. Finally however, Monty turned to their remaining SIS companion, cocking an eyebrow. "Your name actually is 'Katherine' then."

The reply as slow coming and, when it did, the words were short their usual edge.

"Yes, it truly is. Believe it or not, by now I thought I owed you at least that much."

"Nice you care, and now would you also care to elaborate on the rest?"

"Not particularly."

"Allow me to rephrase that: explain." The girl nodded toward her partner's bound wrists, taking in his face in the process, and a little twist of worry reasserted itself in the base of her stomach. Lost in thought was not where she needed him at this moment. "It's hardly like we can do much about it anyway."

Another pause, Katherine also glancing toward the silent handler.

"Not much to say: I had been chasing the Italians' forging operation for months and, frankly, had stirred up enough trouble in the process that things were getting… difficult. I needed someone to draw heat, and Algy suggested this would be right up your boyfriend's alley."

"And so you killed Nick and Shamus, and planted the forgeries on them."

Now, some of the fire returned to the SIS spy's words. "Well, I couldn't exactly bloody wander over and ask now could I?"

Monty was about to retort when she felt something bump her leg and, following the touch, she found Jethro looking toward her. Flashing a quick, thin, smile, he twisted to Katherine also, eyebrows raised in question, public-facing grin starting to once more twitch his cheeks.

"And why us? Because Algy needed a mook who was not SIS?"

"Partly, but also because he, quote, 'wanted a scalpel'."

That got a wry chuckle. "Yes, I believe he once described you as something of a blunt instrument."

"Highly possible."

Heaving an internal sigh of relief, the girl looked from Katherine to her own partner: she could move on.

"While this promises to be an interesting conversation, now that I have both of you back it can wait for another time…" her gaze returned to the female spy opposite, hardening under quiet words, "…and I do intend there will be another time. For now though, we should probably look toward making an exit."

"In case you'd not noticed, we're still bound, and since you did not want to make a start earlier, getting free could take a little while."

"We'll see. Skipper, a hand?"

With that, Monty stood, turning into the cabin. Holding arms rigid, she felt her handler bite onto the cuffs' loose tails, drawing them tighter to lock into place.

"I shink thass as good ash you'll get."

"Don't speak with your mouth full."

The pressure released.

"I said, I think that's about as good as you are going to get." Repeated Jethro.

Turning, she gave him a small smile, one returned as she backed away, up against the table. Placing a wrist either side of one corner, she slid rearward until plastic pulled taught between.

Hopefully this would work. A Generation One wouldn't have blinked breaking the restraint, and a regular Generation Two probably would not have been presented much challenge either, but for her part she was going to need all the help she could get…

…though, with Katherine watching, a little extra show was likely working in her favour anyway. Pushing wrists further apart, the girl raised herself up then dropped, hard, plastic biting into soft skin and she stifled a grunt as the table scraped back an inch.

Glancing around, she silently motioned the other two to brace her makeshift wedge.

Letting their weight settle into place, she readied again, before driving back and down onto the woodwork. Biting pain, burning resistance and, with an audible crack, the cuffs gave way to send her thumping onto the table top. Monty winced: hopefully no-one would want to investigate the racket.

Hands freed, it did not take long for the cabin to give up a shard of shattered glass, donor bottle abandoned along with collected grog and yellowing charts by a previous occupant.

Improvised blade or no however, it still proved capable of chewing through nylon restraints until, rubbing at red-ringed wrists, the girl settled once more at their small table, eyes pinning in place Katherine, now opposite the fratello.

"The question is: where to now? Much as I would like to keep the press for ourselves, it has taken the better part of a year to catch up with the Italians, and I don't much feel like repeating the experience. The fastest way to terminate their operation, and torpedo Charlie, would be to sink the lot."

"Which is of absolutely no use to anyone." Retorted Katherine.

"If you've some cunning scheme by which to retake the ship with three people, I would love to hear it."

Frankly, the Padania's income source sitting on the bottom of the ocean would suit her just fine. To the SIS however, she and Jethro were still in the game for themselves, and the trick would be spinning that so as to not dispute their understanding.

Under the table, Monty felt a hand settle on her knee, giving it a quick squeeze.

"She has a point, little as I like the idea, but we won't be kicking Charlie out with just the three of us, and I'd rather not let him run off with it."

Of course, she could not play the revenge or patriotism cards either.

The other woman glared, previous conciliatory tone evaporating. "So you're going to side with your girlfriend again?"

"Give me a good reason why I should not, all things considered."

Imagining the expression accompanying those calm words did not require much effort, and they hung in the pause. When it came, Katherine's response was sour.

"Then we call in reinforcements."

Monty cocked an eyebrow. "From where? Even if we got a signal out, Algy is too far away to help, and I don't know about you, but I've little interest in waiting around to discover what Charlie has planned while he catches up."

"So you'd see the press, and its plates, at the bottom of the ocean."

It was, however, Jethro who replied. "As opposed to in Charlie's hands? So he can hawk it off to the highest bidder then waltz on home? Yes, I would, and don't think I'm unaware why you want it kept afloat: US dollars are leverage, against the Americans, or anyone else, and whoever brought in that sort of prize would find themselves occupying a very enviable spot indeed."

"Too bloody right they would…" her eyebrow rose again: the British agent had not even attempted denying self-interest, but she was not finished either, "…probably enough to get Algy officially back into the halls of power, certainly enough to line me up a field commander slot. Not to mention knocking Charlie down a peg or two." There was another pause, and in it the tone changed again. "Who knows, with friends like that we could maybe even start repairing the damage done to you."

Now Monty did glance toward her handler. There had to be some temptation there, but his face remained a mask. Out of sight though, she felt the hand on her leg tighten again. This time however, she let her own settle atop it, slender fingers intertwining to squeeze back and, finally, his features relaxed once more into their usual easy grin.

"Thanks for the offer, but…"

"…and Algy may not be as far off as you think." Cut in Katherine. Now, her gaze turned toward the girl. "I thought you might like this one: Prior Planning Prevents Piss-Poor Performance. I checked in with Algernon before leaving Sham Sui Po. All going to design, he should be en route to Hong Kong already, and just needs telling where we are."

That explained why she had been so eager to push on then. Had Algy arrived, with whomever he might be bringing in tow, to find no press or red-handed Charlie, then those throwing egg on faces would have required the entire carton.

Monty's eyes narrowed. "And just when were you intending to inform the rest of us about this?"

"When it seemed relevant, so about now."

"And also once it was too late to point out the risk you ran."

The woman opened her mouth to reply, but Jethro cut her off, voice thoughtful.

"That certainly changes the landscape somewhat…"

"Scuttling would still be the surer option."

Under the table, she felt her hand squeezed again.

Trust me.

"…of course, you realise the clock will be ticking the moment any of us leave this cabin."

"I know, but we can barricade the door to buy a few more minutes…" now, for the first time since arriving, the hint of a smile broke Katherine's features, "…and on a ship this old, there are just so many things could go wrong to occupy one's attention."

Now, it was her handler's turn to grin back, situation taking on a taste of school yard mischief.

"There is that. Alright, here's what we do."

Leaning farther out the open porthole, Monty peered down the ship's side. Below, white foam washed away from its hull, glistening phosphorescent in the vessel's wake, swirling aft under bright moonlight. If falling in now, she would far more likely sink than float.

At least the sharks would not be interested. Probably.

Attention returning skyward once more she looked across faded hull plating to lines of light, marking decks on the superstructure towering above. As hoped, this cabin had likely belonged to one of the ship's officers, and so lay well off the waterline. From here, it would not take much for her to jump up and grab hold of the weather deck scuppers, cut through solid metal.

Withdrawing once more, she nodded. Responding wordlessly, Jethro and Katherine lifted the table closer hull skinning, placing it gently a foot or so from the porthole's opening. Seemingly smashed glass had been a one off, their accommodations offering up little else of use to a conventional escape attempt. Bulkhead panelling however had provided a wood plank, which was now thrust a few inches outside, its other end resting on the table, her two companions positioning themselves to sit atop it.

Hopefully they would be enough of a counter balance.

Suddenly much more aware of the ship swaying beneath her, Monty squeezed out once more to crouch on the precarious ledge now afforded, fingers clutching brass framing.

Glancing back inside, she found her partner's face, receiving a small smile. Returning it with a somewhat drier expression she began to unfold, waiting until the last moment to relinquish her hand hold, palms moving instead to splay against salt coated paint.

The longer she stood here, the more chance she had of falling off.

Head tilting back, the girl found her target and, knees barely bending, leapt lightly upward.

For a heart stopping moment she hung weightless, but then stretching fingers jammed themselves through a scupper, clutching at flat deck beyond. Her other hand quickly joined it, wedging against the drain's backside and, using that to brace against, she swung legs under herself to press hard into the hull.

Walking feet to just below weathered boarding gave enough purchase to jerk upward again, one hand remaining in place while the other snatched gunwale rail, and there she waited, listening. No shouts from above. Presumably then she remained unobserved and, moving her other hand to join its twin, she peeked over dilapidated wood.

Nothing. The deck, or at least its port side, remained empty, Charlie's shorthanded commandos obviously having more pressing concerns than watching exterior walks.

Moving quickly she was soon aboard, lifting one of the faded life rings passed previously from its bracket and hoisting it over the side. Letting rope pay out for it to swing just below their cabin portal, she made fast to its cleat, before jerking hanging line twice. Then the young agent's attention returned to the deck proper, looking and listening hard.

Katherine was next to arrive, taking up position to cover the stern approach before Jethro hauled himself on deck, swapping positons to let Monty retrieve the life ring. Looping its rope neatly again, she replaced it on its bracket, arranging falling hemp to resemble how she had found it prior. Not that anyone was likely to notice, but better safe than sorry.

…and the gaping porthole below would be far more incriminating evidence.

No time to dawdle. Katherine was already through the door they had originally entered by, ushering the Blackers behind. That however was the end of team play and, as her handler trotted down the passage in the elder woman's company, she turned toward the ship's stern.

That was not an arrangement she had been particularly enthused over but, unfortunately, there was no good argument for breaking tasks up any differently. On a vessel of this era, wheelhouse, chart, and radio rooms would all be clumped together for easy communication, and calling Algy was going to require at least two of three. The wheelhouse itself however was guaranteed to be populated, and she was ultimately the smaller and stealthier of those present. Thus, the more difficult task fell to her.

In hindsight, coming inside may have been a mistake. There were definitely stairs on the superstructure's rear, but any in here were going to be closer the ship's core. Continuing down the passage, she paused at its next junction, listening and, hearing nothing, peeked around.

Empty, clear across the beam. Of greater interest however were the set of steep ladders leading from this deck to the next and, pausing just below their upper hatch, she listened again. Now voices could be heard, muffled behind some barrier which, right now, was good enough and, finishing her climb, the girl stepped on to plush carpet.

At least it had probably once been plush, now frayed and faded with age to match wood panelling dividing numbered doors: cabins, marking this one of the passenger decks. Presuming Charlie's men had locked up the rest of the crew as well, this was probably somewhere she did not want to be.

A hinge's creak sent laughter wafting louder into the far corridor as boots began to tramp her direction. Time to move. Going up again would leave her exposed, and she daren't try passenger accommodation. Reaching a decision, Monty scampered aft, toward a portholed door at the passageway's end.

As it turned out, that was the wrong move.

"Well you two were…"

Around her, low mid-century furniture clustered into small groups, but those were not the subject of her attention. At the ship's bar, out of sight of the door, a sole commando was rising, kit stripped back to fatigues, surprise spreading across his face and, using that moment, Monty dashed forward, knuckles driving full force into his stomach. The blow keeled him over, letting her slam a trailing fist into his temple and the man started to drop, girl stooping to slow his descent, grimacing as she did: the crunch of bone had been bad enough, but putting one of Charlie's in a position to be missed this early could be catastrophic.

Moving quickly, she dragged him around the bar's rear. Presumably this was the passenger lounge which meant, with a little luck – she glanced backward to find a slender door beside arrayed bottles – the steward's pantry would be nearby.

Pushing it open with one foot the young spy dragged her burden through, folding him into a corner. Beyond that, there was little else to be done to conceal the evidence, and she quickly policed her victim. That turned out to be a somewhat fruitless exercise but, drawing an aged Browning from its holster, she checked it had been made ready before stuffing it into her own belt. Two spare thirteen round magazines also found their way into a pocket, and she slunk back to the door, listening carefully before peeking through its glass pane.

The lounge remained deserted, but from deeper in the ship came the thump of a fist against timber, followed by shouted Cantonese. Hopefully whoever else had been present would thus remain otherwise occupied and, slipping outside, she paused, eyes falling on what Charlie's man had been studying: three wallets, three passports, and a trio of phones. The rest of their kit had seemingly gone elsewhere and, only hesitating a moment, she withdrew the newly acquired Hi-Power again to tighten her belt, before tucking in her oversize shirt. Unbuttoning that a notch further, the collection was swept inside.

Taking that was a risk but, considering what was on her phone, it was probably worth her while… and removing only one item would likely ring more alarm bells than leaving nothing at all.

Besides, good quality aliases did not come cheap.

Now she really did need to move and, returning to her original plan, Monty headed sternward, pistol in hand.

The wide aft veranda remained clear, steel plate giving way to more passenger friendly timber decks, and she quickly climbed curved stairs, away from the gaze of lounge windows. Here, the superstructure cut back, leaving a wide open space, canvas-covered whaler boats resting in cradles down either flank. Between them the lounge skylight glowed, offering a clear view inside and, creeping forward, Monty glimpsed two more commandos return through its starboard door. Between them hung one of Nanking Queen's original crew, and she paused, listening. If she had blown their escape already, she was about to find out.

The two stopped, and the girl ducked down further, ensuring she remained out of sight.

"Oi, I thought we told Hamish to wait?"

There was another pause.

"Bet you he's taken the girl's passport to the john, seedy prick."

"If that's the game, then I call next. Until the boss says otherwise that's the best we're going to get for entertainment…" there was the thump of a body falling, "…and seeing what we can wring from these idiots."

Seemingly she was okay then, at least for now.

Continuing forward, Monty passed the ship's funnel, climbing another steep step ladder from the boat deck as a scream of pain rose from inside. Ignoring it, she scanned what lay ahead carefully: if she were going to encounter trouble, this was its most likely source.

Wood decking was broader here, light spilling from an open wheelhouse door, casting shadows across the bridge wing. It was definitely inhabited then, dull glows issuing from portholes set into steel, stretching back toward her. Beside, gaping vents faced the wind, ramming it toward the vessel's lower reaches, and into the shadow of those Monty scampered, pulling up at another weathertight door. Rushing air forbad listening at rotten seals but, raising herself up, the girl peeked instead through circular glass.

The area beyond remained empty, superstructure narrowing here compared to lower levels and, slipping inside, she assessed her surroundings. Unlike those paying passage, Nanking Queen's designers had afforded her crew neither luxuries of space nor privacy, bulkhead panelling broken only by paired wood doors fore and aft.

Those also offered no clue as to what was concealed behind. At a guess though, little of interest would lie toward the stern and, instead, she crouched down at the nearest forward door. A small grate at its base gave her something to listen at and, hearing nothing, the girl eased her way inside.

The room beyond was dimly lit, partly by another round opening in what she could only presume was access to the wheelhouse proper, remainder by a dull desk lamp, casting deep shadows from boxy metal enclosures stacked against the forward bulkhead. Scampering to those, out of easy sight, Monty settled before ancient wireless sets, patchy paint nearby suggesting more modern equipment having been torn out. Patently Nanking Queen had been destined for the breakers when the Padania found her. At least now she could expect a more dignified burial.

Either way, a gentle hand would probably be the best policy and, trying not to disturb layered dust, she reached first for the VHF, flicking it on.

Not even a crackle. On to plan B.

Powering the bulky MF set took more effort but, locating its isolator, she was eventually greeted by a deep hum of electronics slowly coming to life, hopefully not so loud as for anyone to hear.

Still, nothing had gone pop either.

Abandoning the warming radio, she slunk once more into the passage to crouch beside the second door, listening again. There were voices from this one, but faint and, cracking it slightly, she peered through. Before her lay a large table, yellowed paper hanging over raised edges, more rolled up and placed into individual slots beneath: chart room. This was where she needed to be but, beyond it, the wheelhouse access swung open. From here, she could see clear through to where Martin stood, back to her, apparently talking to someone out of sight.

No shout of discovery however came and, taking advantage of his current orientation, she slipped inside, keeping low to scoot around the table's far side. Reaching its end, she peeked past once more. Seemingly some of the crew had decided to co-operate with new management, one now at the ship's wheel and on the receiving end of Martin's conversation. He also was looking away and, acting quickly, Monty popped up to glance across the table top. Finding the most likely looking chart she snatched it back into her hiding place, protractor and parallel rule following behind.

Locating their most recently marked position, the girl memorised co-ordinates scrawled beside, before laying the protractor over Nanking Queen's projected course. It looked like she had been correct: too easterly for the mainland, more toward Indonesia's farther island groups.

From the bridge however, conversation ceased, and the young agent froze as shoes began to tap her direction across wooden decking. Placing chart and protractor aside, she picked up her pistol, thumb hovering over its safety…

The shoes continued on, out to the bridge wing and, giving a silent sigh of relief, she peeked around the table's edge again.

Martin was gone, leaving just the helmsman, glow of a fresh cigarette visible at his mouth. Staring blankly forward he seemed little interested in anything else, and she quickly arranged document and instruments as she had found them, before slipping back out the door, one careful eye on the starboard entry as she returned to the radio room.

Placing her pistol down once more, Monty settled before the heavy set, rotating its frequency dial to the secondary option Katherine had specified and, chasing a spider out of one ear cup, she pulled on headphones before drawing its Morse key toward herself. This was probably not how Algy had stipulated any message to arrive, but on equipment this old she was not going to get another option, in which case a little warning was probably in order. Grasping the key's knob, she began to stroke away.

- R-H-U-B-A-R-B R-H-U-B-A-R-B L-A-C-Y D-E G-I-N-G-E-R G-I-N-G-E-R K-N -

She paused, awaiting a response.

Nothing. Well it would probably take a moment for whomever was on the receiving end to work out what had just occurred. Just in case though, she reached forward to crank the gain wide open and, silently reading off words in her head, tried once more, dropping the preceding gibberish.

Calling Lacy, this is Ginger, back-to-you only.

Another pause but, this time, it was broken by the ultra-precise beat of a computer-generated signal.

Ginger, this is Lacy. Authenticate teacup Old Chap. Go ahead only Ginger.

Lacy, this is Ginger. Auth Paddington windmill doctor one one, day code W-W-R-A…

She had forgotten how terribly slow this could be. Whoever complied such a long countersign needed talking to and, keeping a wary eye on the wheelhouse door she continued straight on, bashing out Nanking Queen's name, last marked position, and current course before turning back over to the SIS operator.

- G-I-N-G-E-R D-E L-A-C-Y C-F-M… -

Only the first few letters had come through however when there was a thud from outside. Hidden until now, one of the commandos was striding forward on heavy boots, listening to the squawk of his own handheld set. Had they found their dead companion? If so, it was time to move and, holding her key down to interrupt the incoming message, Monty bashed out two more letters.

Closing station.

Not a moment too soon either as, turning, the man suddenly came face to face with her through radio room glass.

"Hey!"

Grabbing her pistol she swept off its safety, putting two shots through thin door panelling. She had no idea if they hit, probably not, and tearing off headphones with one hand she spun Katherine's frequency from the dial, before dashing for the passage. Seemingly she had indeed missed, wood shattering as automatic fire tore through it, and she tumbled from the deckhouse onto teak boards beyond.

It was bare respite however. On the bridge wing Martin was already turning, MP5 rising in the wheelhouse's glow, and two more rounds flew his direction, forcing him to duck. No way was she going to make it back to the boat deck, too open, too exposed. She needed a different plan, and instead she ran for the nearest ventilator scoop as the door behind her flew open. Bullets sparking off steel, she leapt for its gaping maw, dropping away and out of sight.

Watching his girl disappear from view, Jethro turned back to his own task, Katherine leading as they headed into Nanking Queen's interior. Order of business: get eyes on Charlie, figure out what he was currently up to, and then find something suitably catastrophic to occupy his attention.

Of course, all good plans required some preparation and, pausing by one door, he listened carefully. So far this deck, seemingly concerned with the ship's running, remained deserted and, hearing nothing, the spy pushed through. No luck, room swinging open to reveal what appeared to be a small laundry. Two doors later however he struck gold, just in time too as his current companion's voice wafted from outside, low but patently annoyed.

"Are you quite done?"

"Patience is a virtue."

Digging through the cramped workshop eventually turned out an oil can and, pumping twice to ensure it would actually operate, he stepped back into the passage, holding it aloft.

"Alright, good to go."

Receiving rolled eyes in return he let Katherine lead again, descending toward lower reaches. In finding Charlie, the press's hold would probably be as good of a place to start as any and, pausing at its entry, Jethro motioned the British woman aside. The hinges which had caused such a racket on their previous visit were treated to a goodly dose of oil and, giving it a moment to wick in, he turned the steel wheel to retract heavy bolts.

Moving forward again, Katherine pushed softly, faintest squeak just audible before being silenced. Bar sounds of a ship underway it really was silence too, the press having fallen quiet, probably shut down to avoid damage whilst in transit.

The tween deck beyond remained clear, and the woman slipped through.

Sometime since their fight, bodies had been cleared away. That was all however, remaining detritus untouched, corroding steel scattered with ink rollers and spent casings. Beyond spindly handrails though, hold lights still burned and, scuttling forward, the handler lay flat, leaving his SIS companion to keep him covered. Sliding the last few feet on his belly, he looked down between ladder rungs, careful to remain in shadow. It was not a great view, but was still better than exposing himself at the edge, and through its narrow frame he could see a group of crewmen tending to the central machine, greasing and oiling under the watchful eye of two commandos. What there was not, however, was any sign of Charlie and, sliding back again, he rolled up on his haunches. Glancing toward Katherine, he gave a quick shake of the head.

No joy.

Shrugging, the woman jerked hers toward their entry but, answering in the negative, he pointed toward doors leading forward. So long as they were here, they may as well check this end of the ship.

The second hold however proved deserted, floor devoid of encumbrance bar a sticky black sheen, air thick with the stench of rotten eggs and tar, presumably the victim of leaking bunkerage. Skirting around its edge, the two spies made their way quickly back through watertight bulkheads toward their entry point. Stooping on his way however, Jethro picked up one of the discarded rifles and, as they squeezed into the passage beyond, he jammed it through the hold-side locking mechanism before pulling the door to.

With that, he pointed away toward the transverse access's far end. "Next stop should probably be the engine room."

"Or the bridge."

"Anyone there is Monty's problem for now. We'd be better working our way up from the bottom, and the engine room is Charlie's next biggest potential problem."

Shrugging by way of reply, Katherine set off again, moving quickly in a crouched half run. Arriving at the next junction she listened briefly before continuing on her way. It was a sensible precaution but, sparse population or no, luck could not hold out forever and, peeking around the next bend, she came to a sudden halt.

"Watch it!"

Rather than retreat however she charged forward, and Jethro was just in time to see her cannon into two commandos halfway along the adjoining branch. Fortunately they seemed just as surprised, and her impact knocked one sprawling.

But then the other was on her, kicking hard to lift the spy clear of his squadmate, tumbling her aside and, looking for something he could use, the SWA man grasped for a hanging fire extinguisher.

Katherine however was already up, one hand reaching back to withdraw the chopstick from her hair, other parrying a jab to slide along the extended arm. Ponytail unravelling she ducked in under her assailant's next blow, bringing her back to him and, getting in close, she rammed the stick's pointed end hard up under his chin with both hands.

There was a sickening noise as it pierced soft tissue and, letting go, she smacked it again, driving wood home through tongue and roof of mouth.

That was not the only sound however, the prone commando's radio already up.

"They're out! They're fucking…"

The rest was cut off as Jethro's improvised club sent the handheld clattering away. Too late though, the message was gone, and the extinguisher clanged off metal decking as his target dodged, rolling upright.

That was as far as he got however, red splashing across his chest as two pistol shots cut through flesh and bone, echoing along steel walls.

Dropping her current burden, Katherine safed his Browning before wedging it in her belt to massage at one hand, and the SWA man's brows knotted. "You okay?"

"Think I may have broken something with that chopstick trick." Grimacing, she gestured to the downed commando. "You police that one, I'll finish cleaning this other out."

Crouching beside his designated corpse, Jethro quickly unshipped its MP5, spare magazines being jammed into pockets. Detaching the pistol in its holster however, he gave it a quick once over, frowning.

"You know, I don't think this mob are actually ours."

There was a pause, and the following words were dry. "As in friends of yours? Or as in mine?"

"As in British intelligence or special forces. Sterilisation aside, this is all close on army service gear, but they just don't seem sharp enough."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Oh, they're certainly not amateurs, but do you think you could have taken two, say, SAS like that?"

"Maybe, but probably not. What do you think? Third party hires by Charlie?"

"That was the insinuation. Might be worth trying to find out whom and how."

"How about we work on staying alive until Algy gets here first?"

Standing again, the ex-SIS agent shouldered his newly acquired weapon. There were voices coming from elsewhere in the ship now, shouts and running feet, faint, sporadic gunfire.

Mustn't fret, Monty could look after herself.

"Come on, we'd best get moving. Here is no place to get caught again."

Bracing booted feet either side of a corroded vent cover, Monty blew on throbbing hands, red and raw from arresting her plummet. That she did not feel like doing again, though a little friction burn probably beat getting shot.

Definitely beat getting shot.

Fortunately her arrival's racket had been lost in the mechanical cacophony emerging from below, and she peered through circular vanes onto the ship's single, massive, engine. While surrounding catwalks showed no sign of life, that was only more worrying on a vessel decrepit as Nanking Queen: all it meant was that she could not see whomever had been given the unenviable task of keeping things running.

No fire had followed her flight from the bridge deck however, suggesting Charlie's men had at least some inkling of where the duct went… again less blessing than curse as it also meant they would be aware of her destination. No time to lose then and, grasping the vent firmly, she began to work it from rusted lugs.

Eventually, with an audible crack, it came free, weight dragging her suddenly down. Dropping with it Monty twisted, rolling awkwardly as she hit grating below to prevent steel meeting steel. It was certainly not her most graceful arrival ever but, leaving the cover as it lay, the girl picked up her Browning from where it had escaped her grasp.

On to part two of why she had split off on her own: time to set about sending the Padania's forging operation to the bottom.

Giving her weapon a once over, she crept to the end of the engine's block, peering around its thundering bulk. Now she could see exactly where the room's inhabitants were, clustered by a control panel, two original crew in overalls, and a single commando. Her eyes narrowed: only a single guard? It seemed a little much that so many of the ship's personnel would willingly help. So, where was…

Something prodded her in the back of the head.

Not pausing, she lashed out blindly, leg catching the man behind and sending him clattering to the deck, MP5 spraying fire skyward. Ignoring the toppling soldier, Monty dropped sideways, bringing her own pistol to bear on remaining opponents. The Station H man went down, another round catching one crewman in the leg, his mate shoving him clear only to receive two shots himself.

The pistol's slide locked back, but now she had bigger problems, a heavy boot smashing her against juddering rail, and she looked up to find a black barrel swinging her direction once more. Grasping metal above she hurled herself forward, rolling in under its fire which scythed across her head. No chance to line up a proper strike, and instead she lowered a shoulder, barrelling into her assailant. It was a clumsy movement, but cyborg power and mass were enough to send him staggering backward.

The submachine gun went dry.

Swiping its empty magazine away, her opponent fumbled for a spare. Seizing the opportunity, Monty charged forward, getting in close, fist driving upward to crush his exposed windpipe, feeling it give under the weight of her blow.

He did not last much longer after that, falling to gag and writhe. Eventually however he stilled and, replenishing her Browning from his ammunition supply, the young agent unshipped the now abandoned MP5, finishing what its previous owner had started. Pity she hadn't space for its spare magazines as well, but thirty rounds were better than nothing. A steep ladder at the engine's aft let her slide down beside its spinning propeller shaft, and she trotted around to stand before the same plethora of gauges and valves as the now dead commando and mechanic had. Of the party's third member there was no sign, a trail of blood leading away to one watertight door and, ignoring it, Monty returned to the task at hand. Frankly, she had absolutely no idea what she was looking at.

In which instance she might as well to take a leaf from the Generation One playbook, and simply make the biggest mess possible.

MP5 being shoved farther behind one shoulder, the girl reached forward, beginning to crank open every valve visible, before moving on to those feeding the engine proper. Smaller pipes she did not bother with, no time and, task complete, she grabbed a heavy fire axe from its mounting.

Positioning herself over the largest line she could find, the cyborg took careful aim at its far side, before bringing the blade down with a resounding clang, and again. On the third blow a thin trickle began to form and she continued, opening the fracture until trickle became gushing torrent, steaming brine pouring across the engine room floor. Finding another likely target, she raised the axe again.

Before she could swing however, the thud of a watertight door meeting its bulkhead stopped her.

"What the fuck are you doing!"

A female voice. Looking up, she found Katherine charging into the room, Jethro behind, the latter leaving its entry swinging open.

Now the SIS agent was upon her, face contorted in stunned fury, question repeating. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The reply was hard. "Scuttling the ship."

"Like hell you are."

The woman's arm swung back but, before Monty could take a defensive stance, fingers were closing around the raised wrist, holding it fast, and she spun to where Jethro now stood, already talking.

"We agreed! We were signalling Algy then waiting for the cavalry to arrive. If she sinks the Nanking we lose their entire forging operation."

"We've already lost the forging operation." Jethro's reply was calm. "Even if Monty got through, there is no way we could hold out until Algy gets here now, head start or no. The best we can do is abandon ship and commit the rest to Davy Jones." He looked toward his partner. "Did you get through?"

"Yes, but I was interrupted before receiving confirmation out of Algy's contact."

"There, we don't even know help is coming and, personally, I'm not so keen on waiting around to find out." The words received no reply, and he continued. "We sink the ship, keep it out of Charlie's hands, and if we can we'll try grab him on the way through to face M. Understand?"

That did get a response, a silent nod and, pausing a moment longer, her partner released their companion's restrained arm. Kneeling then, he laid fingers instead on the pipe she had been about to attack.

"Not this one, its cold, so likely an inlet. You want the engine running for as long as possible to keep pumping water…" he looked around, pointing to similarly sized lines bolted against the hull, "…those, they probably lead off to ballast tanks. Open them up and I'll see what else is worth breaking."

Setting to work, Monty began to swing again as her handler moved to the control panel. Retrieving a heavy sledgehammer from the same case as had supplied her axe, he began to smash valves off the smaller lines, contents pouring forth and adding to the swirling mess already lapping their ankles.

With each blow however, the axe was becoming blunter, her work harder and, opening up the next pipe the girl was forced to pause, breathing heavily. As she did however, a hand landed on her shoulder, Katherine's voice speaking clearly from above her head.

"Here, I'll take that."

Stepping forward, the woman peeled the axe from her grasp, before raising it high to be brought crashing down on their next target and, internally, Monty allowed herself a small sigh of relief. At least for now, they all seemed back on the same page.

Her companion had only managed to sever two more lines however when a movement caught Monty's eye.

"Careful!"

Ignoring the MP5 at her back, she drew her pistol to send two shots flying toward the trio of commandos arriving at the forward entry. Rather that was the intention, still limp arms refusing to co-operate and the rounds ricocheted off heavy steel. It was enough to get Jethro and Katherine's attention however, axe falling with a splash as the latter brought her own submachinegun to bear.

Hammer still in one hand, Jethro took advantage of her protection, backing away from the console, keeping his weapon trained toward their assailants with the other. "I would say that's our cue to leave. Keep me covered, I'm going to ensure that door's out of commission."

Receiving a pair of affirmatives, the handler waded aft as gunfire roared again behind him, fuel oil swirling through water already sloshing about sopping knees.

Stairs at the engine room's end presented another watertight door and, opening it wide, he smashed the hammer into exposed hinges, contorting them so as to never move again. Repeating that process on the upper mounting, he stepped through, turning back to the fight.

Not that there seemed much left to do. A corpse lay in the far doorway, its companions having apparently scarpered. That he could not afford, not yet, not here.

"Time to leave!"

Monty and Katherine did not need telling twice, and they were quickly wading toward him, elder woman covering her young companion. Firing another burst as she backed up the stairs to join them she stepped through the exit, talking as she did.

"Got one, winged at least one more, and the last seems to have run."

"Then let's just hope he takes a while getting back." Looking between them, he nodded into the flooding engine room. "We need a distraction until this can get properly out of control. Ideas?"

It was Monty who replied. "Charlie's got the Italians' workers locked up on the passenger deck. Releasing them should give Station H something to contemplate."

"Except they'd just as likely turn on us." Put in their SIS companion. "Taking the bridge though would force their hand."

Much to Jethro's own surprise, his partner nodded. "There were not many present up there, the three of us could probably manage something."

"Alright, bridge it is, but on the way through, punch a hole in this ship any place you can."

Pausing only to jam open doors to the rear hold, the little group quickly found themselves once more below the weather deck. Pausing at the climb's top however, Monty peered through the hatch opening, beckoning them to join her.

Back to where they began.

The passage ahead lay deserted, guard on their former prison removed. Leaving his partner to keep watch, the handler and their companion moved quickly, locking open cabins and smashing portholes.

Positioning herself to cover the elder pair as they started down the ship's opposite flank, Monty dug in her shirt, retrieving collected belongings and, waiting for them to draw level with her once more, she held out the assortment.

"Here, before I lose them."

Accepting possessions from the little pile, Jethro looked quickly through his own effects before pocketing them.

"Thanks luv."

Katherine however seemed less enthused. "Where did you find these?"

"Station H had them in the passengers' lounge, same deck where the Italians' people are being held."

"So we definitely avoid staying there too long."

Her partner's voice was dry. Their companion, though, still had questions.

"You didn't find my watch by chance did you?"

The girl shook her head, to be answered by a sigh. "Q branch is going to kill me. Again."

"You can worry about the boffins later." Sledgehammer lowering, Jethro nodded to his girl, unshipping his MP5 as he did so. "Led on MacDuff."

Hefting her own submachinegun, she however turned attention to their party's third member, locking eyes before jerking her head toward the stern.

"Go on. The first level should be fine, but wait before the second, it's all windows right around the back of the lounge."

Rather more protected from the wrath of oncoming seas, the superstructure's rear allowed easy access directly onto the main deck though heavy doors. To the east, dawn was just beginning to break, washing away covering darkness and, stepping out behind Katherine, Monty scanned her weapon across towering steel and open railings under soft, grey light.

Finding both deserted, she waited for her partner to wedge open the far exit also and, as he took up a rear guard position, their SIS addition moved again, scrambling quickly up another steep ladder while the cyborg covered her from below.

On the next climb however, she paused, peeking over its last step, before motioning the girl to join her.

"How is it?"

"Clear," Katherine's voice was a whisper, "on the outside at least." Now however, she pointed to paired stairways leading to the boat deck. "I say we handle one each. Check the lounge is empty, I'll take the far side."

Nodding, Monty squeezed past, moving swiftly to the door and peering through its porthole. Beyond, the bar area lay deserted, previous patrons now otherwise occupied, and she gestured the other woman forward.

Jethro was close behind. Leaving him to watch so many approaches was not an ideal situation but, waiting for both to take position, she began to climb, mirror of Katherine on the starboard stair. Pausing just below the boat deck, she looked across, being motioned to stay put.

Then, that other peaked cautiously over.

For a moment peace reigned, but it was only a moment.

Suddenly, stillness was shattered by automatic gunfire, forcing the SIS agent down as rounds slammed into decking above, showering her in sparks and splinters.

It snapped off again, and Monty found herself once more in the other woman's gaze.

"Cover me!"

Standing in response, the cyborg got her first glimpse at what they faced. Under the bridge, Charlie's men had barricaded themselves on the cabin's flanking decks, two or three commandos each behind heavy tables and chairs, blocking entry to what was, presumably, the dining room and owner's suite between. Picking the farther group, Monty shouldered her MP5, jamming its trigger down to pepper them with submachinegun fire, drawing attention her way.

Then Katherine was up, charging ahead to drop behind the lounge skylight as their reply spanged off wood and guardrails.

Dropping back into cover the girl discarded her now empty weapon, drawing the Browning instead before popping up to deliver two more shots.

They were going to be hard pressed moving forward from here. That was okay though, they didn't need to actually take the bridge, just keep the Station H contingent's attention on them long enough for flooding below to take hold.

Eyes flicked to the gun now laying beneath her.

If anything, ammunition was going to be their biggest concern… as would knowing exactly where the rest of the competition was. Five she had seen on the barricades, and there should definitely be more than that still loose.

That thought had barely finished when windows below shattered, sending her partner ducking for cover as Charlie's second team made itself known.

Jethro or Katherine…

Popping up to deliver two more rounds across the boat deck, Monty dropped, vaulting over stairway bannisters, catching a glimpse inside as she fell. More of the Station H contingent had come through the accommodation deck in a flanking manoeuvre, taking up position inside as they encountered their targets.

Jethro had already found cover at the far door, shooting back and, hitting wood planking, Monty rolled her plummet into forward momentum, popping up from a new location to fire through now empty window frames.

Two shots caught one commando as he entered from the far passage, but then she was forced to duck away. Far from a small surprise force, it looked like this assault was being undertaken by a full strength squad…

…and even then their number appeared light. Glancing around, her eyes ran over steep ladders leading up from below. So where were the rest?

The same thought had seemingly occurred to her handler and, loosing another quick burst through the doorway, he glanced back her direction, pointing upward.

"Go!"

With that they were both standing, pouring rounds into the lounge, sending those inside diving aside, before dashing for respective staircases.

"Katherine! Cover!"

The spy must have heard as she was fast to oblige and, cresting the flight, Monty joined in, dashing forward to drop also behind the skylight. Ejecting the spent magazine from her Browning, the cyborg dug out a fresh replacement, glancing across to where her handler was hunkered behind one of the ship's boats, reloading his own weapon. This was a bad position to be in.

Katherine was back down again now, apparently in no need of an explanation, and the cyborg leant around the skylight, squeezing off another pair of rounds before ducking back to catch the woman's address.

"I'll keep this deck busy, you two watch the stairs."

Words had barely left her mouth however when more reports sounded from the lounge, immediately joined by shouts and breaking glass. Not just shouts in English either, but Cantonese also.

An attempt to peek through skylight glass however had Monty immediately back behind its housing as lead sparked from iron framing. So much for that plan, and running boots returned her attention to the stairs, just as a greasepaint smeared face emerged above it. Now she did not miss, shots slamming into the new arrival's chest, sending him tumbling back. Not far though as the man behind caught the falling corpse, hoisting it up as a shield to block her fire as he ran past. One more followed in his wake, apparently more interested in covering the stair than the cyborg crouched before it as the first Molotov cocktail sailed up behind, shattering to sheet the deck in flame, forcing her to scramble out of its path, falling into Katherine on the way.

That was quickly followed by a head, poking up from the deck below. This one she recognised, escaped engine room mechanic wielding another bottle in one hand, its wick already alight. Monty fired again, two rounds slamming into him and sending him toppling backward, panicked shouts erupting from below as flames engulfed wooden stairs.

At least they wouldn't be coming up there anymore, and she turned to the other access as Jethro opened up on the first figure appearing there. He wasn't the only one engaged however, and more reports sounded from forward. Peeking over cover again she was just in time to see glass shatter outward above starboard barricades, screams starting as those below were wreathed in blazing liquid. Their pain was short lived however, former crewmen immediately setting about the burning commandos with pry bars and whatever other weapon lay to hand.

"Monty!"

Her head snapped back to where her partner was still hunkered, MP5's magazine out as another former Padania worker charged from the stair, and her pistol came around as he hurled his own cocktail toward the already flaming cabin ahead. Katherine was faster however, quick burst dropping the shouting man, but more were swarming from below, improvised weaponry replacing homemade firebombs, and the cyborg opened up as another turned her direction.

Most however seemed to not even see her, intent on the bridge or bearing down on already embattled Station H troops. As the last ran past, she caught her partner's eye again.

"I think that's our cue to leave."

"I think so." He slapped the hull of the boat above, long splinters falling away from shattered clinker boards. "This has had it, we'll need one from forward."

Nodding, she turned back to Katherine, now crouched up, submachinegun still trained ahead.

"Yeah, I heard. Cover me."

With that the woman was running, and Monty brought her Browning to bear. Not that it was needed, port side barricade abandoned as its defenders fell back to address the threat to their rear, and the SIS agent took up position behind. Jethro was next, heading for the opposite railing and boat still lashed in place before the blockage's burning twin. Now it was her turn and, standing, the girl caught a glimpse down. Seemingly the dropped Molotov had spread further, turning lounge furnishings to a raging inferno, interceding glass already beginning to crack.

Checking stairs one last time she ran forward, scanning across the bridge deck above as she crouched beside their chosen whaler's aft davit.

Her partner had already stripped its cover back, now fumbling with securing lines. Finally however he was able to push it out over the side, hanging above water far below.

"Alright luv, time to leave." Turning then, he shouted across at their companion. "Katherine! Let's go!"

Abandoning her position, the woman ran back toward them, leaping into the boat. Instead of taking a seat however, she dove for the forward locker.

"Not yet!"

"What do you mean 'not yet'?" Jethro's words were a growl.

"I'm going after Charlie."

"And just how do you plan to do that?"

"With any luck the Chinese will be attacking from the other side, and he won't expect us down this flank." Emerging from the boat, Katherine held up its small fire extinguisher, apparently catching the fratello's expressions in the process. "Look, if you don't want the SIS to come looking a chat I will need him to help explain events."

Not waiting for a response she charged back toward the flaming barricade, and Monty caught her partner's eye as he spoke.

"Go with her, I'll watch the boat."

"But."

"She has a point. Go. I doubt anyone will be bothering me here."

By the time she reached the barricade it had already been doused and, kicking still smouldering wood aside the older woman continued forward along the superstructure's flank, keeping low, beneath window level. She had barely reached halfway however when the door at the end was flung open.

Monty's first shot caught the commando there in the shoulder, extinguisher tumbling from his grasp, spinning him around to let the second slam through the back of his head and he dropped, revealing a suddenly blood spattered Charlie behind. Leaping for the door he attempted to slam it shut, but Katherine was too fast, crashing through and tackling him to the ground.

He was not the only one present however, and Martin's boot caught her in the side to the crunch of breaking ribs, throwing her off his boss who, rolling upright, drew his own pistol. Still on the ground, she lashed out, kicking it away, but that left her open for the next strike, and she staggered from view as Monty began her own charge. That the junior operative had apparently not foreseen and, turning to face the new threat, he missed the other woman's return, her fist driving hard into exposed kidneys.

Below them, Charlie was just beginning to stand again, but then the cyborg was there, one foot tangling ankles to send him crashing back to the carpet. Katherine still engaged, she followed him down, getting a firm grasp around one wrist and twisting back.

It was only then she noticed the adjoining compartment, and the group of mercenaries still there.

Seemingly they had only just noticed her also, a cry resounding as, Browning levelling, Monty opened up, catching the one who had shouted in the side. That however most certainly got the others' attention.

"Look out!"

Her companion was already moving, swinging her opponent into the line of fire and shoving him forward, checking it long enough to take over charge of Charlie. Grasping his arm hard she hauled him out the door, pushing him sternward.

Martin was recovered now, getting clear, and another shot smashed through a leg sending him stumbling. She needed to buy more time and, expending the rest of her magazine into the room beyond, the girl dropped back out of sight as return fire chewed through wood above her head.

That would have to suffice.

Ramming home her final spare she was up and running too, sprinting aft along slanting decks. Ahead, Jethro was already in the boat, helping Katherine hoist their prisoner over the gunwale before that latter followed suit and, racing toward them, she waved frantically.

"Get moving!"

Her partner got the message and, yelling something at the SIS woman with him, the boat began to slip from sight.

She could hear boots behind now, shouted commands. Not slowing she fired blindly backward, pistol emptying as she exploded onto the boat deck proper, incoming rounds shattering timber at her heels. Weaving sideways as more zinged past she dropped, sliding the last few feet on her side to tumble over the precipice as bullet impacts kicked up splinters around her.

For a moment there was silence, falling through space, then a heavy thud as she landed in the bottom of the boat, setting it rocking. Rolling to heave a dazed Charlie unceremoniously aside, she grabbed her partner's discarded MP5, training it upward and opening fire as two figures appeared at the balustrade, sending them ducking away.

The deck below however was now awash with flame, boiling in angry sheets across its ceiling, lapping around charring edges, chewing through planking and beams alike. Another burst bought a few more seconds, but she watched in horror as davits started to droop, their fixings beginning to collapse.

Jethro too had seen it.

"Let go!"

With that he released his grasp on the rope, Katherine following suit, their whaler plummeting the last ten feet to land with a slap on pitching seas. It was not a moment too soon either, heavy curved steel tumbling past, ropes running out through their blocks to trail behind into the depths below.

"Katherine, a hand here?"

Finding oars, her handler settled one into its rowlock, SIS woman taking up position with its twin and they heaved together, hauling away from the doomed ship, putting as much distance between it and themselves as they could.

Monty however had other concerns and, finding the painter, she rolled Charlie over, beginning to bind hands and feet, leaving his wrists attached to the bow. As she drew rope tight however, growled words issued up from below her pinning knee.

"You really think this will help you? Or your boyfriend? All you've achieved here is to make things worse."

"Careful," the girl's voice was cold, "or it'll be the anchor you're attached to rather than the boat."

Propping him against the gunwale, she looked sternward. Nanking Queen was a good half mile away already, listing decks entirely awash in burning orange, fire engulfing railings and lapping around towering masts. As she watched, the forward crane gave way, toppling over to smash through rotten hold covers beneath. For a moment that seemed like the end of it, but then volatile vapour caught, ship heaving mightily as flames erupted from the hole, roaring back through her interior, and she heaved again as they found the fume-filled engine room, blasting out ventilators and whatever other path they could find.

From there it was only a matter of time, cold ocean thundering into newfound ruptures in ravaged plating, raging through passageways and open bulkhead doors, filling cabins and holds, sweeping away living and dead alike. Slowly, Nanking Queen sunk lower, listing further as she succumbed to the sea, drowning everything within until, finally, rolling on her side she slid beneath the waves, bows rising up in final farewell before they too disappeared, burning slick of her funeral pyre the only beacon to mark her passing.

From stilled oars, Katherine finally broke the silence, voice weary. "Well, there goes that chance of getting back in Vauxhall's good books."

Turning to straddle the bench, Jethro gave a similarly dry chuckle. "Then I guess that makes us even for buggering up each other's work."

"What do you mean 'buggering up each other's work'?"

"Monaco would be a good start."

"You were successful weren't you?"

"Onlyjust and, for the record, you can tell Algy next you see him that, should he want help in the future I would prefer he just ask."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

The words were dry, but the handler was still talking. "Besides, you've not so much to complain about…" eyes landed on the recumbent Charlie, "…you still have that. So long as you can find some evidence which will actually stick to snake oil it should buy plenty of bargaining power."

"There is that," now, the SIS woman pulled a rueful face, "I just don't like settling for runner up prizes. Perhaps next time, maybe."

"As if there will actually be a next time."

The words were virulent, and three heads turned to Charlie as he continued. "If you think bringing me in like this will be enough to reinstate you at the Circus, Blacker, or dig out your mate Algy, then you are very much mistaken. He's been too long in the sticks, and I hold the keys to that castle now, me, not him. A little spin, a few favours called in, and this will blow over... Hell, your involvement will probably even work to my advantage, seeing as you've apparently managed to bollocks up this one as well. Just proof I was right all along to have you thrown out."

"Depends on how you define 'bolloxed up'."

"Remind me what Katherine was here to do again? For my Station? And what is now at the bottom of the sea? Sounds like a proper screw up to me. If you had any chance of returning before, it's damn well ended now."

When they came however, Jethro's words were calm.

"You seem to be under the impression that I actually want some variety of return. That your throwing me out hurt enough to come crawling back."

"That would be about the gist."

"Thought that might be the case and, at the time, maybe it did. You, ruined my career, exiled me from one of the few places I ever actually felt at home… and maybe, just a little, part of me does still want to go back…" now however, his eyes moved, and Monty felt them settle on her as he continued, still apparently addressing the station head, "…but not enough to leave what I currently have. Were you not such an utter arse I should really be thanking you." Then the moment was gone, his gaze turning back to Charlie, words hardening. "Bluster away by all means, but now it's your turn to face the music. Perhaps you can learn to be thankful too."

The man seemed about to reply, but this time it was Katherine who cut over him, rising from her seat as she did. "Blacker here might think otherwise, but there will be a next time, whether officially or no. That one I'll leave you ponder, Wilkes, but I would rather you do so silently."

The blow was hard and fast and, in its wake, the man slumped, unconscious.

"Sorry, but he was going to be a bother awake."

Catching her partner's eye, Monty returned his wry smile as he spoke again.

"Oh if you hadn't I probably would, if only so I didn't have to keep listening to him." Pausing then, he looked up, one hand shielding eyes from the rising sun as he scanned skies above. "Now let's just hope Algy caught enough message to come find us."