"I'm, like, 75% sure this won't explode on us." Part 2 (POST)

Jack didn't say much; just sat down heavily to rest.

Mark let him be. After all, he didn't really seem all that injured, so he wouldn't push it. But the collar around his neck really worried him.

He could feel Dan's disdain towards it - while Mark could only ever subtly pick up Dan's emotions (Dan's abilities were more for himself to read, and Phil, probably because of their bond), it had been stronger this far from Earth. Poor guy was probably remembering the time those Vevmilons tried to kidnap him.

But what concerned Mark most was, was it a shock collar? If it was, had they used it on him? How was Seán handling it? And if not, then was it just a show; a way for the Billycons to say, "You're helpless against us"?

He groaned. "This is so messed up."

"I'll say."

Mark turned to see that Phil was still awake; Dan was dozing against his side. He realized how cold the cell was, and shivered.

"So," Phil shifted a little to get more comfortable, "any idea what his plan is?" His eyes flickered to Jack.

Mark wrapped his arms around himself. "Not sure, either way, we have a few hours."

Phil made a noise of acknowledgement.

"I trust him though," Mark added.

Phil's head shot up, gaze intense. "Of course. I," he glanced away, mumbling, "I trust all of you guys."

Mark noticed his soft smile, and felt himself smiling too. "Same here."

There wasn't much else to say, so they eventually dozed off.

"Psst, Bossotronio; wake up."

Jack's eyes flickered open, green swirling through his irises briefly. He tilted his head, seeing the guard who had escorted him earlier.

"It's about time," the guard - Steve - said, hushed.

Jack nodded, then gingerly got up to go wake the others.

He didn't know how high the voltage in the collar was, but he was pretty sore from the half-dozen shocks.

He really hoped they couldn't set it any higher.

"Hmm, whazzat?" Mark groaned sleepily when Jack shook his shoulder.

"Time to get the eff out of here," Jack whispered.

Mark was alert at that, nodding, and getting up quickly to stretch. Jack wandered over to Dan and Phil, shaking the latter's shoulder. Phil opened his eyes, disoriented, and his shifting seemed to wake Dan.

"Who's that?" Phil asked, seeing the guard.

"This?" Jack pointed his thumb at the Billycon, who inclined his head politely. "This is Steve. He doesn't really agree with the Billycon Ruler at the moment; he's agreed to help us escape."

Mark's brow furrowed. ". . .and you think we can trust him?"

"Considering he stopped that Billum brat from beating the absolute shite out of me, I'd say he's okay."

His friends gave wide-eyed stares to him, the guard, and back again.

Mark was ready to dig with questions about what exactly had happened, but Jack cut him off before he had a chance to speak. "Look, I'll give you guys details later. The fact is, I'm fine right now, and we need to go now. Okay?"

"Okay; we trust you," it was Phil who had spoken up. The other two nodded in agreement.

Jack sighed, still fatigued despite his rest. "Okay, let's get out of here."

Guard Steve unlocked the cell, latching it closed again after they all came out. He led them down to the left at a quick walk.

"The normal ship bay is under careful watch, so we'll need to go to the repair sector. There's a decent Sehgweh that just needs a few adjustments."

The cool hallways seemed to stretch on forever as the five of them travelled.

"But how are we going to leave in a broken ship?" Dan asked.

"That's where the Warfian comes in," Steve explained.

Mark's shoes squeaked against the floor as he stopped short. "Wait wait wait - hold up. You expect me to fix some alien spacecraft? I'm a Bioengineer! Not a rocket scientist!"

He turned to face Jack, who had set his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Mark. Ye're the only one with any sort of idea about mechanical stuff. We need your help. You can do this."

"Yeah! I mean, you fixed the microwave after the Peeps incident," Phil added, smile bright.

Dan nodded in agreement, a sense of trust rolling off of him. "I mean, it's a mostly fixed ship, right?" Steve gave him a nod. "So there; see? You're just gonna . . .be tweaking it a bit."

"It shouldn't be much of a problem," Steve added. "I was on that ship the last time it was damaged, and it didn't take any heavy fire; it should be a quick fix. But we'll need to hurry - the Migrön are going to realize that you're gone, soon."

They didn't ask what Migrön meant; just hurried after the Billycon guard to the repair sector. Signs marked different junctions, and though the letters were similar to the English Alphabet, the style was completely different, and they had no inkling of the words' meanings.

They finally made it to the hangar, which was dimly lit. There was only two, smaller crafts and a medium sized one in the whole space. It seemed to be deserted.

"Where is everyone?" Phil asked, voice hushed.

"Hopefully, asleep or attending to other duties. It's the 34th Raye; a designated resting period for most personnel," Steve supplied, in a way of answering.

"Raye?"

"They're like your Earth measurements for, what is the word, half-hours? There are approximately 48 Rayes in a Pla'urn, or Planet-turn."

"That's really cool!" Phil said.

"Shh!" Jack was peeking around the corner into the hallway. "We don't know when they're coming after us. I'll keep lookout over here."

Mark nodded in agreement. "I'll get started on the ship. Steve, can you come help me? Dan," he addressed the brown-haired Brit, pointing to a hall in the opposite corner (the room was roughly something like an uneven pentagon), "Can you keep an eye on that hallway? It's farthest, but since your abilities are stronger here, it'll help alert us."

Dan nodded, "Got it."

"Phil, mind taking the middle?"

He gave a cheesy salute, "Sir, yes sir!" Giggling as he went to his post.

Dan rolled his eyes, though everyone could feel the fond spork* friend.

Once everyone was in position, Mark and Steve got to work.

It. . .was both harder and easier than he expected. After Steve explained the basics of what he knew (apparently he loved ships as a kid, the Sehgweh being his favourite, though he never really grasped the workings too well), Mark was able to assess what needed to be fixed. It was mostly a dashboard malfunction that needed cross-wiring and recalibration. But Mark wasn't too familiar with this sort of tech - it was almost like figuring out terms in a foreign language. And while Mark was smart (despite his appearance of being a goof), this was a little bit beyond him.

They feel the wave of flee from Dan at the same time that Phil and Seán shout, "They're here!"

There's shouts and the generating of electric rods, coarse language like salt spilling out of the halls.

"Okay! About done!" He finally shouts, hair falling to his face, drenched in sweat from nerves. He twists the exposed copper-gold wires a few more times, then gets out from under the dashboard. "Let's get out of here!"

It's not done. Not completely. But it'll have to do.

Dan runs, grabbing Phil and wrenching out of the way of a thrown rod. Luckily, guns aren't common among Billycons, but those rods are devestating on their own.

Jack turns to run, energy coursing through him, blue eyes wide as the hangar's lights are turned on.

Mark's pulling Dan aboard, while Steve helps Phil clamber on, and they're watching as Jack is almost there, passing the main panel of that sector, which is smack in the center of the room.

Mark sees the sneering Billycon child; things move in almost slow motion as their eyes alight in gleeful hate, the little black object in their - (his, because this must be the 'Billum' they mentioned) - hand is squeezed between thumb and hand.

A remote, it must be a remote-

Seán is looking at the ship, and Mark watches as his neck muscles tighten, jaw clenching as he falls down, screaming, howling in pain, body spasming, jittering, as electricity courses throughout his body, through his Boss Energy because it's so highly conductive-

There's something, almost like a ringing, as Seán falls to the floor. He's breathing shallowly, tight chest, and there's too much energy inside of him, coursing through him.

Ow. The shock collar could go so much higher than he thought.

It's still going, though, and Seán gets used to the pain, sort of, until it's a dim buzzing that becomes his very being.

Like hell Jack'll let Billum get his grubby little fingers on him, though.

So Seán pulls himself up with the control panel, heaving himself to his feet. His vision is blurry, his ears filled with cotton, but he can distantly see his friends in the ship's opening.

He's going to make it.

But first.

Hands clamp down into the metal paneling, and he lets the energy, go.

Combined with his B.E.'s conductiveness, and the electricity still coursing through him, the panel is awash in a glow of green lightning, like the energy curling around his hands, brighter than ever as his clenched hands are so pale. Jack can't stop himself from screaming, or from tasting metal, smelling blood, feeling hot and cold at the same time-

The lights flicker over head, and the hangar doors begin to open as the Billycons shout.

- but he can smile through a grimace, feeling satisfaction at the chaos.

Mark is ready to run forward and drag Jack to their ship, but, surprisingly, Dan leaps out, landing with a stumble and correcting it, almost hyperventilating as he reaches Jack, just as the Bossotronio begins to slump over. Phil is out there, helping support him, and Steve ushers Mark to the controls.

"Get ready for the lift-off sequence."

Once everyone is aboard, and the door shut with a subtle hiss, Mark flips some switches, turns a dial, and grips a lever loosely, easing it.

"Okay, so, I'm, like, 75% sure this won't explode on us. Just, uh, hang on, okay?"

The ship boots to life, little plastic baubles lighting up as indicators. Steve stands next to the Captain's chair as Mark's eyes flicker, vaguely understanding the readings. Dan and Phil watch them from where they sit on the floor, a slumped over Jack laying between them.

The ship hums.

The thrusters roar.

The boosters shout.

And then, they're in space. The sun - their Sun - small, and twinkling, though far bigger then any of the other stars winking amongst the void. They leave the Billycom ship behind, the hangar doors left open; leaving the agressive race to try and shut them, lest they become blown into space.

After fifteen minutes, Mark sighs, posture slumping. "We did it," he breathes. "We really did it."

Steve claps him on the shoulder. "That we did."

He turns the chair to face the others, smiling in relief. Phil returns it, and he feels relief exhilaration companionship lingering fear love friends from Dan.

Even Jack, unconscious, seems more relaxed, less fearful, as they run out of range from the remote.

They really would need to get that collar off of him.

But first. . .

Mark gives his friends a meaningful look. Steve even gives him a nod.

"Next stop: Home."