Beauty and the Fleet (Intergalactic Fairy Tales Book 2) (5 page)

Again, her nagging conscience pointed out how unhealthy that thought was and she pushed it aside. She'd dedicated her life to revenge since her father's murder. She had no idea why now, when she was about to meet the enemy face to face, she would be suddenly having doubts.

Finally, the nothingness from the beam gave way, leaving her sitting on a dim, grey hangar deck. A few other Talons were in her direct line of sight, but little else could be seen in the gloom. The main guns on her Talon were still set to practice level, so she gave the trigger an experimental pull. Nothing happened. As a matter of fact, none of her instruments were powered on, and a few seconds flipping switches confirmed that everything was dead. There wouldn't be any flying out of this situation. At least she was able to move her own body again.

If she could move, that meant she could get out of her Talon. She reached down and pulled a latch under her seat that released a small case. Inside were some small tools for quick and dirty repair of basic components on the Talon. One was a multi-tool with about every item you could ask for stuffed into a frame shaped like a pair of pliers. One of the tools was a two inch knife blade. She flicked it out with a satisfying snick and palmed the handle it flipped out of, taking a fighter's grip on the knife. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it would have to do.

Beatrix made her way slowly toward the Talon closest to her, crouched low. She wasn't surprised to see Hands climb out holding a tool just like her own. "What a pair we make," she whispered, nodding to her knife.

Hands started and whirled toward her, ready to fight before he squinted and recognition crept across his face. "What the hell, Sting?" he croaked. "Creeping about in the darkness and whispering at people is a good way to get yourself stabbed."

"Yeah, thankfully a cheese grater would be a more effective weapon for killing than these things." She pointed at their small knives. Since nobody seemed to be jumping out at them, she stood up to her full height, just a shade taller than Hands' one meter eighty-five frame. It made her quite a bit taller than several of the men in her Flight. It irked more than a few of them. Not just because she was taller, but because they knew she could kick their asses.

"At least they're something. Lets go round up the rest of the suckers who got captured with us. If the Colarians aren't swarming down here to collect us, this bay is probably pretty secure, but we might as well poke around anyway."

The rest of the suckers included Pickle, Gadget, and Torch. There were two other Talons that had belonged to Red and Butch, but the sliding glass hatch that covered their cockpits had been blown away, indicating they had ejected. They were nowhere to be seen. Beatrix wondered if they had somehow managed to see what was coming for them and chosen to take their chances floating in space, hoping someone would pick them up before their air ran out. There were no obvious killing shots on their Talons. Good for them if they did.

"So, who wants to be the first to take off their helmet and see if their brains boil out of their ears?" asked Torch, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

CHAPTER EIGHT

In the end it was Beatrix that took her helmet off first, but not before the guys made it clear they weren't afraid to do it. They just figured that one of the women made more sense because of body mass or some such nonsense. It didn't fool anyone, but it made them feel better about themselves, so nobody called them out on it. Pickle, the only other female present, let it be known that even if they were all fine, she was going to leave her helmet on until the air in her suit ran out.

The air had a funny tang to it that reminded Beatrix of the ocean. Otherwise, it was perfectly normal air. Pickle, good to her word, left her helmet on while the rest took theirs off.

Normally they all would have ribbed Pickle for keeping her helmet on, but none of them were in a joking mood. If the rest of their thoughts were as grim as hers, Beatrix couldn't blame them. It was hard to joke when you were imagining bloody torture at the hands of your sworn enemies.

"Just keep an eye on your oxygen gauge, Pickle. I don't want you asphyxiating yourself in that suit," said Torch, setting his helmet on the metal floor with a clunk. "Sting, you come with me. You other three, stay together. We'll circle around the bay counterclockwise. You go clockwise and we'll meet up back here at the helmets in fifteen minutes. Don't explore too much on your own. Just make note of anything interesting and we'll all go check it out together."

They all nodded grimly and set off. Once they were out of earshot, Torch cleared his throat a couple of times and then finally spoke, barely above a whisper. "I don't expect we're going to make it out of this alive," he said.

"Now don't start in with th—"

"No. Hear me out. This isn't just fatalism. I have a point." His blue eyes were intense and serious in the gloom. Command had given Torch an air of responsibility, but he had always felt a bit like a boy playing cops and robbers, even when they were being swarmed by Raptors. This was more serious than Beatrix had ever seen him, and it actually scared her. He wasn't the best pilot in the Flight by far, but he had saved her that day in the mess hall when she'd been so green she didn't even realize that she would need friends if she wanted to live long enough to get her revenge. In one fell swoop, he'd given her a name that made light of her sometimes prickly attitude and shown his friends that she had his stamp of approval. He did everything with such ease that she almost thought of him as invincible. That's why she hadn't even been bothered when he'd been promoted above her. It was wrong to hear him talking about his own death.

"Alright," she said, taking a moment to calm her emotions so she could listen to what he said openly.

"I don't expect that we're going to make it out of here, but if any of us can do it, it's you." Beatrix started to object and then thought better of it when he narrowed his eyes at her. "You're too damned stubborn to die. Even when you let your bloodlust get the better of you, you always manage to dial it back just enough to keep yourself alive. So, if you make it out of this and I don't, I want you to do something for me."

While she still wanted to protest everything he said, Beatrix wouldn't ever deny Torch something he asked of her. He'd never done it before. "Whatever you want, Luther. I'm sure it won't come to that, but I'll do anything you ask."

"Tell Madeleine that I meant to ask her to be my wife after this tour, and give her this ring to remember me by. Then make sure that she moves on and finds another man." He smiled sadly. "After a sufficient mourning period, that is. Can't have people thinking she's glad to be rid of me."

Beatrix took the beautiful ring he offered and chuckled in spite of the heavy emotion weighing on her heart. "I may have to make a play for her myself after that mourning period is over. She's quite the looker." She gave him a wink and tucked the ring in her pocket.

"Hey, that's fine with me; I always suspected you of having a thing for the ladies when you showed no interest in me," said Torch, managing a genuine smile.

"Oh, come off it. The way you go on about Madeleine, you make it plenty clear that any other woman isn't worth your time." They continued in silence for a time, scouting the boring perimeter of the bay. "Besides, I don't have time for dating right now. I've got more important things to do than get all gooey."

Beatrix fingered the ring in her pocket while they made their way back to the meeting spot by their pile of helmets. As much as she was an adventurer at heart, that little piece of shiny metal struck a chord with her. Her favorite books all had a bit of a romantic component to them. At the least there was a tragic loss of love that spurned the lead character into action. Maybe one day she would complete her revenge and take the time to find someone of her own. If she didn't die, that is.

"So, we found jack and squat," called Torch, a bit more loudly than was strictly necessary. It hid the quaver in his voice well. Torch was a sly one. "How about you guys?"

Pickle tried to reply, but her helmet muted her to near inaudibility. Hands scoffed at her and shook his head. "Only two doors. One is a sealed blast door that's probably covering the hallway that leads to the rest of the ship. The other one is a regular door that isn't even locked, so I would imagine it's not very important. We might as well go check it out though."

Pickle tapped loudly on her helmet and then gestured toward the others on the floor.

Torch nodded sagely. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea, Pickle. Since you have a helmet on, I think you would be a perfect candidate for an exploratory mission into this mysterious room. You never know what could be lurking inside."

She gestured again toward the helmets and mimed putting one on. Gadget punched her lightly on the arm and then laughed. The rest of them joined in. Except for Pickle, whose shoulders slumped. Torch gestured for her to lead the way and she shuffled along reluctantly.

Despite Pickle's fear, the room turned out to be a very ordinary head, equipped with two toilets in stalls, a shower, and a pair of sinks. It was all in the same drab grey metal as the rest of the ship. At least the toilet paper and soap provided some relief for their eyes, being pleasing shades of white and pink respectively. It's a dark day when toilet paper makes nice decoration.

Gadget immediately ducked into one of the stalls with a sigh of relief. The rest of them excused themselves to give him some privacy. Pickle tried to say something again, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

When they all shrugged and held a hand up to their ears, she finally ripped off her helmet in exasperation. "I said that man has the smallest bladder in all of Nedra. I'm not sure how he ever decided that being a Talon pilot was a good idea. He had to have pissed himself every day of flight school."

CHAPTER NINE

Days passed with little to differentiate them. Talk of being rescued died after the first day. None of them wanted to speculate about what had happened to the rest of the crew of the Harbinger if they hadn't come after them.

The days were broken up only by the regular drops of supplies from a hole in the ceiling ten meters above them. Thanks to Hands' pocket watch, they noticed the boxes dropped every four hours, regardless of whether they needed more food or water. After a couple of days they had enough food and supplies left over to feed them all for a week, but still the rubbery grey boxes dropped like clockwork.

The only real excitement came one day after yet another unnecessary supply drop. The five of them sat in a rough circle around their discarded flight suits, staring at them like they were a camp fire. Only Beatrix bothered to look up when the ceiling groaned, signaling the opening of the round supply hatch. It had been taunting her for days. It was the only possible exit they had found from their prison. Sadly, it was far too high for them to reach. She watched the grey cube tumble through the air and hit the floor with a dull thud. She climbed to her feet and walked over to it. It was the same size and shape as all the others, a rubbery cube of about sixty centimeters on a side. Beatrix resolutely pried it open.

"I don't know why you bother," called Gadget, not even bothering to turn his head and look. "It's just more crappy rations and water, like it has been every day after the first."

"Leave her alone," said Pickle, her voice more forceful than Beatrix would have expected. "She's just trying to find something to do. Trying to stay sane."

"You're one to talk about staying sane," he retorted. "You don't think I see the way you stare at these flight suits like you still want to put one on?"

"Gadget," warned Torch.

Beatrix frowned at the way Pickle's eyes glazed over. This line of discussion wasn't doing her any favors.

"I had a really bad game of croquet one time. I don't like being in strange places without a helmet on," said Pickle, her voice distant.

"Gadget, why don't you come over here and make yourself useful," called Beatrix. She had a really stupid idea that she was sure he would love to naysay. To her surprise, he pulled himself to his feet without argument. Boredom was a powerful motivator. While he'd been really negative, Gadget had been right. The box only held food, water, a bar of soap, and a roll of toilet paper.

She didn't say anything when Gadget approached. She simply closed the box, looked up at that circular hatch above and placed it very meticulously before going over to the massive pile of empties and grabbing another. By the time she placed the third box, the whole group was standing around staring at her. When she place the fourth box next to the others, she stopped and gave them all an impatient look. "Are you all just going to stand there and watch, or are you going to help?"

"Help with what?" asked Hands.

Gadget looked up at the ceiling and let out a groan. "She's trying to stack these up to the hatch in the ceiling."

"Ding!" said Beatrix, pointing at Gadget. "Give the man a prize."

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Torch, falling in behind Beatrix when she went to retrieve the next box. Pickle and Hands were close on his heels.

Gadget crossed his arms and stood there grumbling. "It's never going to work. I was an engineer before I decided to join the flight program."

"Which is why I asked you to make yourself useful," said Beatrix, dropping her box at his feet. "If any of us can build this thing strong enough, it's you."

Gadget's chest puffed up and Beatrix saw a small grin before she turned away to schlep more boxes. He didn't grumble so much once he was in charge of placing the boxes. He had them build a slightly modified triangle shape. Two weeks in captivity hadn't given them enough boxes to make it as structurally sound as Gadget wanted, but it still looked impressive by the time they had it built up high enough that she and Hands were the only ones able to place boxes on top. Any further building would have to be accomplished by someone standing on top of the makeshift structure.