Long Patrol 11
Long Patrol 11
Author: Tohonomike firstname.lastname@example.org
Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners...it will start off with the Joss/ME characters, and the BSG (original and reimagined) and Stargate characters aren’t mine either and any other characters or real-life folks are clearly not mine. NO money is involved. None are mine.
This is dedicated to those of you who watch the shows.
Waking up on a spaceship at one time would have been the stuff of dreams for Alexander Chase Harris, but the reality since experiencing it while still-awe-inspiring when pondered, in this case … wasn’t very hopeful. And the fact that the vibrations throughout the floor as well as walls meant his determination of being space-borne was reality.
Though after a moment he was surprised to find that his bindings were simple rope; not even nylon. He looked around at what was to his mind a holding cell, though it looked a bit worn and had the feeling of age about it. He allowed himself to relax with closed eyes and leaned against the wall when he heard voices approach. They stopped for a moment, and put something in his room before leaving; but no sound of the door latch opening or closing reached his ears.
After several more minutes, Xander very narrowly cracked his eyelids and saw that no one was around. He stood, and noted that no apparent observation device presented itself in the cell. There was a tray of food on the floor, and what seemed to be water.
‘These guys must be fun at parties if they think I’m going to eat and drink without my hands,’ he mentally sighed. ‘Now let’s see if the Xan-Man can use his super-strength to get out of these things.’
It took him fifteen minutes to get free of the bonds, and he had managed in the process to sprain his wrist very slightly. He ignored the pain and listened from next to the door of bars, careful not to touch it in case it was electrified. No sound of guards, though he might have heard someone down the hall, perhaps in another cell.
He removed the tray contents, and stood the metal tray itself next to the doors, then let it drop as he moved away: no sparks; no sign of power flow. He tossed the drink on the tray and door; still nothing. He moved up and placed his foot on the tray that now leaned on the barrier keeping him in. He pushed down, wondering how solid the old metal door was. He was surprised to find it give way.
‘No working lock?’ he considered, ‘Am I supposed to not know, or is someone waiting to shoot me?’
The cell didn’t offer any clues, so after a moment of indecision, he made his way out into a hallway.
‘One way’s as good as the other at this point…right it is…’
He made his way quietly, armed only with a metal tray and the pillow from his jail cot, the latter item in his slightly-hurting hand. The next cell door was open and without anyone inside, but the one after that held the guy the constables had wanted. He didn’t seem in particularly good shape. Hearing voices further down, Xander ducked into the cell; luckily the cell doors only covered a third of the cell front. Two men stepped into the cell, the first with a tray, and the other moving boredly to check on the inmate’s injury.
Xander sprang into action, a backhanded scything with the dull-edge metal tray crushing the second man’s windpipe as the release of the pillow briefly obscured the first man’s vision. Xander lifted his leg and brought the heel of his boot down hard on the man’s kneecap, causing absolute pain to the guard while Xander brought the tray hard edgewise against the man’s temple. From so much unexpected pain, the man collapsed unconscious to the floor.
The temporarily safe Alexander Harris turned his attention to the now-choking man with the crushed throat. Xander balled up a fist and slammed the man hard in the forehead to knock him out, and that goal was achieved. He found a small knife on the man, and a thin stray from looked similar to a juice box.
“A decent tracheotomy it isn’t, but maybe the bastard’ll live,” the young man sighed, and shook his head. “So, you gonna get up and help figure out an escape, or just sleep?”
Robber, who’d thought himself smug by remaining quiescent, opened his eyes with a bit of shock.
“Your breathing was a bit off…and the fact with all this noise, you’d have to have been dead not to wake up.”
“Oh. I can see that.”
“So where the hell are we?”
“Probably aboard the prison transport ship on our way back to Proteus. With this bunch, we’re probably on autopilot.”
“How hurt are you?”
“Still a bit shaky from the shockers and smacking my head into the floor, but I can move.”
“Good. Any idea how many of these guys might be around?”
“Usually a dozen; any more than that and they’d begin to have problems back on Proteus.”
“The prison moon…you really aren’t from around here, are you?”
“No, my group is on the way to the Colonies of Kobol. And now…this. If we take the ship can you fly it?” He looked up from where he was using their own bindings to secure the two guards.
“I don’t know; it depends on how similar the controls are to my cargo vessel, and if access has a password on the autopilot.”
“Okay. And if we get to the moon, does the autopilot kick off by itself, or do we just crash?”
“Chances are we’d be so low on fuel, we’d have to land any way. But we’d have control. Might have a bit of trouble with the other guards down there, though.”
“Think you could work the communications?”
“Probably. Those’d probably not be locked down. Thinkin’ to call your friends?”
“That’s the next best plan. So, right now, do you think they confiscated your ship?”
“’tis likely, I’m afraid. Given a few hours even these uns’d find her. But if so, that means probably a *few* less of ‘em on this vessel if they fly the other back.”
“Okay. I’m guessing these things are the tasers? Grab the other one and lead us to the control room I guess. You’ll have a better sense of this place than I do.”
“I noticed you didn’t let the man die…”
“No need,” Xander nodded, “If we end up having to kill in order to escape, we will. But until then it isn’t necessary. And we might need to trade them for fuel or something if we have to land on the prison moon…what did you call it? Proteus?”
“Yeah, Proteus. Alright, I guess I’m ready. Here goes nothing…”
Angel gets back to the ship after an hour or two; the prison ship has already left.
The ‘cigar’ crew had in the absence of their friends, detected and decided to investigate a damaged Cylon craft. After an hour, the sisters had made an interesting discovery…that unlike most of the short-range fighters in the sectors away from the Colonies, the crashed vessel had an early version of tesserect drive!
Gena and Lena had explained to Giles that that meant none of the locals would have had any idea of what they had, or a way to make the few necessary repairs.
“We really need to get this onboard; the size is about what we’d hoped for when Alexander began suggesting installation of such a unit,” Lena affirmed, “Mr. Giles, it might not be the very best, but the miniaturization of most parts might allow us to secure it on the very back.”
“How long will it take?”
“Well, if just the four of us, then about eight hours with the tools and lifts we have on hand.”
“Well,” Gena conceded, “That will remove it from the crashed craft and secure it to our own; it will still take real engineers back at the Colonies, or returning home, to hook it up and have it working in any reasonable length of time.”
“Well, let’s take our communication devices with us; since we’re already out of synch with the day of this world, we might as well accomplish something. It’ll be a nice surprise for the others when they get back.”
Dawn broke over the mountains when the four finished their task, and a worse-for-wear Angel made it back to the ship.
“Are you okay?” and “Where’s Xander?” were the two questions he found himself bombarded under.
“He was grabbed by some police guys. We were stunned because we were talking to a man about possible routes and contacts.”
“Do you know where they might be taking him?” Giles asked.
“I beat up a guy on the way back hear…he says they took him, the other guy, and the other guy’s ship to a moon called Proteus. They left maybe four hours ago.”
“Good Lord. Let’s get you into the ship…we’ve just finished a project of our own but that can wait ‘til later. Right now we need to figure out how to pilot this thing. We are fortunate in that Xander rigged that auxiliary control panel to allow us basic manuall control.”
“Did he leave it on when we left?”
“Indeed, as a means of escape if you two stepped into a trap and we found ourselves under siege. I believe it will be rough, but I should be able to get us into orbit and eventually beyond. I do not, however, look forward to possibly needing to dock or land this infernal beast.”