Chapter 23
O’Riley and José lead them through the corridors of the other ship, swords and daggers drawn. The old man shambled behind them with Squirrel and M’Elise at the back. Squirrel had a long curved blade drawn and M’Elise had a hand computer that she was watching the display of.
“Hang back,” M’Elise said. “Two goons are coming back from the bridge.” They pulled into a side corridor as two pairs of boots thudded down the long lateral corridor heading amidships. “We need to go down a level or two. They’re all aft of us now.”
O’Riley and José stepped back into the corridor and almost slammed into a cloaked figure that had been running flat out, but silently down the corridor. There were yelps of surprise from all sides as they fell to the deck in a tangled heap. O’Riley tried to use his knife while they were close but was fouled by her kinetic cloak. José resorted to trying to bite her as she got the better of them and struggled up to near standing. Then she shouted and fell backwards as a pungent aroma filled the corridor.
They all coughed and retreated. “What the hell was that,” said Squirrel. “It smells like… like… Sailor’s Spice?”
“My favorite,” said the old man, tossing the empty cologne bottle aside. The Sorority Sister had pulled herself to a shaft and slid down the grab rails. “After… (cough)… her!” said M’Elise. They staggered forward.
They followed this down three steps, slowly getting over the smell of the cologne. They made it down three levels. “I think it was fore of here,” said M’Elise, reviewing tapes on her computer. “Starboard side.” They started forward passing a few side corridors.
“Dead end,” reported O’Riley after a minute.
“Holy shit!” cried Squirrel. She had turned around to find another Sorority Sister sprinting silently up the corridor towards them. Squirrel raised her sword above her head and one hand forward. The Sister slowed her approach. Emboldened Squirrel made a low guttural cry and spun the sword by her side while pirouetting. The Sister stopped, watching her intently. She found the center of balance of the sword and spun it end over end around her arms like a baton. She gave another cry and tossed it straight into the air. Her grin faltered as it stuck, point first, into the ceiling.
The Sister found her guard, but did not advance. Squirrel cried again, jumped to a row of pipes running down the corridor, leapt from them to a set of pipes on the other side, and from there grabbed the sword. Unfortunately her weight was not enough to dislodge it and she hung from it, slowly swaying. Her grin was fixed, but a slight whimper escaped her. With effort she smiled widely and drew her body up into a stylized fighting position, only elevated half her height off the ground.
Totally confused the Sister took a few steps backward. O’Riley and José had finally worked their through the line in the narrow corridor and took up cramped positions on either side of Squirrel. This changed the Sister’s mind and, as silently as she came, she turned and ran.
“If I had not seen it myself…” said the old man.
“The money I could have made at the bookies,” said O’Riley. “What odds would they have given me for a stripper versus a Sorority Sister.”
“Dancer,” said M’Elise.
Squirrel dropped to the ground and beamed at her. “Thanks, M’Elise.” She dusted off her hands. “Not that much different from a pole dance.”
“Show’s over, José,” said O’Riley, retrieving her sword from the ceiling with a sharp tug. “I’m going to bet she’s heading for the José Fabuloso. Let’s go.” They rushed off as fast as they could after her.
At the second corridor there was a loud noise. They followed this and came into a large room. It seemed to stretch most of the mid section of the ship. In this was the José Fabuloso in a whirling cloud of debris.
“This can’t be good,” said O’Riley. “They’re going to blow the hold. Get back.”
“Wait!” shouted José and rushed in.
“José” shouted M’Elise. “What are you doing?” The engines were now a deafening roar and the ship had snapped its restraints. A loud siren signaled immanent decompression. But José was trudging back, dragging something. Squirrel and M’Elise grabbed him and hauled him through the doorway as O’Riley slammed it closed. There was a huge clang and their ears popped with decompression. The sound instantly stopped.
“He would have died,” said José, who had dragged back the body of one of the goons.
“That’s our José,” said O’Riley. “Another stray.” And to M’Elise, “What are the rest doing?”
She consulted her hand computer. “They’re withdrawing. Shouting something about having a prisoner and the ship getting away.” They looked at each other.
“They’ll be pissed we’re gone,” said Squirrel.
“It’s that or get left behind,” said O’Riley. “I don’t relish what they’ll do to us but it’s our only ticket out of here.”
They sheathed weapons and O’Riley shifted the dead weight of the goon over his shoulder. They trudged back to the stairs and started up. “Not going to make it,” panted M’Elise, taking her turn on dragging the goon up the steps.
Squirrel grabbed the other end. “Not if I can help it.”
As they rounded the last corridor, though, a loud crash heralded disengaging airlocks. “No, no, no!” cried Squirrel. “Call them on the computer!”
“Too late,” said M’Elise, collapsing. “Out of range. We’re stuck here.”
They did a walkthrough of the entire ship, each deck, from port to starboard, fore to aft. They finished up in the medical station where the goon was strapped down on a diagnosis board. “Look at me,” said Squirrel. “I’m a surgeon!” She had been stepping through the instructions from the medical software. The wound had been cleaned and closed. “There are all sorts of diagrams and video. It’s like a game! Er. If someone’s life wasn’t in danger.”
“And how is our captor?” asked O’Riley.
“Well, the sword wound is really not much. Got that under control. But he’s got some sort of poison running through him. It’s wreaking havoc with his liver.” She tapped a timer counting down on the screen. “The machine is still chewing on it. Fortunately it’s pretty good at toxicology. Fancy that!”
“The Sorority loves their poisons,” said the old man.
“How’s the ship?” Squirrel asked.
“Fabuloso!” said José.
“What he means,” said M’Elise, “is that it’s ours. Bridge console was left logged in, so I’ve changed all the passwords. Even beamed an official change of ownership request to system control. Said it was abandoned and we were claiming it as salvage.”
“Seriously?” said Squirrel. “They all left?”
“Well, we found one sister in a torpedo tube,” said O’Riley. “Looks like she was trying to fix it when the ship got hit. The hull warped and jammed the door. Nothing a few hours with a blowtorch can’t fix. But she’s as good as in the brig for now.
“But isn’t the ship trashed?”
“The weapons systems are a write off,” said O’Riley. “And there’s a lot of structural damage. But it turns out that most of the bulk of the ship is bolt on tanks. They’re even rigged for blowing fast.”
“But the first mate said they were immobilized,” said Squirrel.
“Aye, that they were. The fuel tanks are outermost and they took a fair old beating. Can’t hold the steam from piss. But,” he grinned, “They’ve one of their auxiliary holds rigged with a fuel bladder for extended running. With a bit of non-regulation piping I can connect it up to the main feed and we’ll have enough fuel for transition and light operations.” He looked pointedly at José. “Light operations.”
“We can give chase,” summarized M’Elise. “For what that’s worth. It doesn’t put us into that good a bargaining position.”
“Oh! You reminded me. While waiting for the liquid sutures to dry I looked around a bit.” She slid a partition to a neighboring work room open. “Ta dah!” I
n it was a familiar looking crate, several scanning units, and piles of blue gems.
“We’re rich!” said José.
“No José,” said M’Elise. “These are just the industrial sapphires that O’Riley bought. Looks like they offloaded it from the José Fabuloso and were scanning it.”
“The Cooperative thinks it’s still on the José Fabuloso, so they’re going to keep chasing them,” said Squirrel.
“But the Sorority knows that it’s here, and they’re going to come after us,” said the old man.
“Where exactly is the gem,” M’Elise asked O’Riley. “Did you toss it in with the rest?”
He looked acutely embarrassed. “I’m afraid not, I thought that would be too obvious.”
“Did you put it back in the Espresso machine?” asked José.
“No, the Cooperative put it there to begin with,” he said.
“So where is it?” demanded M’Elise.
“I put it in me flask,” he said. “It’s all scan proof and such.”
“Pull it out,” said M’Elise suspiciously.
“Well, that’s the problem. The first mate, back Rash Dashside confiscated my flask. I didn’t want to make a fuss and draw attention to it.”
“We've got to get it back!” said Squirrel.
“So the Cooperative is chasing the Sorority, the Sorority is chasing us, and we’re chasing the Cooperative?” said the old man. “What a fine mess.”
“My head hurts,” said Squirrel.
“But we actually know where it is,” said M’Elise. “They only think they know where it is.”
“What good does that do,” said O’Riley.
“We organize a trade,” she said. “We give them what they want in return for what we want.”
“But won’t it be obvious?” asked O’Riley.
“Oh, please,” said Squirrel. “That flask is like your baby. I feel almost the same way about my dresses and José about his parking ticket collection. We sell them a sob story about being sorry and all we really want is our personal effects back, we give half the gems to each and they can fight it out between them.” She lifted her hands up in a shrug. “Piece of cake.”
M’Elise looked at her, impressed. “We’re really a bad influence on you, aren’t we.”