[UF][FanFic] Redneck: Wilderness Pt. 6

[Kris Overstreet]

Chapter 13/THEN

CFA New Orleans, orbiting Earth
February 19, 2366

The Freespacer Bazaar on the CFA-919 New Orleans boasted
various artifacts and knickknacks from a thousand worlds, and today
Rianna Santova wanted to see them all.
At the moment, something had drawn her over to a toy booth-
something more like Mayl than herself, but when the Force called,
Rianna listened. She noted, with a smile, the new line of
ThunderForce: Glory action figures displayed just behind the older
releases.... even after three years, the Wedding-Action Hammer and
Eiko figure set remained the hottest toy item in the Galaxy, and this
dealer had dozens.
Rianna had giggled when she walked past the clearance basket
next to the booth's doorway- it was stuffed full o another release
from the time of the wedding, "Fleet Admiral" Redneck- Kris
Overstreet's third incarnation in the long-running figure series. Like
the animated version which appeared on occasion in the ThunderForce
animated series, the figure was touted as "the independent, aloof
commander of a revolution-for-hire, the Confederate Freespacers
Mercenary Fleet." The figure itself bore a strong resemblance to a
red-headed Captain Nemo, with a huge captain's hat to go with the CFMF
dress uniform.
The figure made Rianna smile not because it looked nothing
like the real man (it was actually a good likeness, unlike the first
one (absurdly muscled) and the second one (black hair)), but because
when it first came out she caught an earful from Red himself about how
the write-up painted far too broad a portrait to be accurate. Of
course, you couldn't explain to kids why for every hour Red spent on
the bridge of a starship, or in a starfighter cockpit, he spent a day
processing paperwork, or performing boring inspections, or holding
long, incredibly dull and occasionally nerve-wracking meetings with
various chiefs of state. You couldn't explain in a twenty-two minute
animated show how a minor recurring cameo character relied on dozens
of people to perform the miracles which were explained away in a
sentence or two on-camera.
And he of all people ought to know. Rianna giggled even more
because, at the time he'd said it, Kris had been wearing his Guinea
Pig costume for the -other- runaway hit children's show of the decade,
'Washuu's Lab,' into its seventh season and still fresh. Kris played
the dumb bunny- er, rodent- to Washuu's know-it-all teacher, and as a
result got blown up, drenched, launched, or clobbered at least once
per episode- but always in a scientific way.
"It's not a bad likeness, Admiral." Rianna blinked and stepped
around a display to see the shopkeeper facing a man in Freespacer
uniform, blond-red hair, dark red beard, holding one of the figures
from the clearance rack. "You can take one if you like."
"Not selling good, are they?" Kris asked the half-Gamilon
woman, grinning wryly.
"Actually, they sold pretty well," she smiled, "but not as
well as I thought they would. Still, I made my money back, and more
besides. Go ahead," she gestured, "I've still got plenty in storage."
"Well... thanks," Kris said, pocketing the figurine. As Rianna
watched, the Redneck fished a pen out of his shirt pocket. With a
flourish, he signed the name, "Admiral Redneck," on another figurine
and handed it to the vendor. "Maybe you can do something with this,"
he said.
"Maybe I can," the boothkeeper said. "See you around,
Admiral!"
"Take care," Kris said, and he strolled off out of the booth.
Rianna followed a hunch and went after him, calling his name through
the crowd.
"Red!"
Kris stopped, turned around, and smiled at Rianna; at the same
time, his fumbling sense of the Force touched her own, and she felt a
wave of pleasant surprise wash from him. "Long time no see!" she
smiled back. "How are you?"
"Not too bad, all things considered," Kris said. "How about
yourself? Where's Mayl and Subtracto?"
"Mayl's off spending her share of our latest haul," Rianna
said. "Subtracto's seeing to some maintenance work on the ship...
things got a bit hot near the end, but this latest run brought us
enough to kick back for a while and relax."
"That's terrific," Kris smiled, looking her over. For once,
she was fit to look at; her athletic body filled out the brand-new
clothes she'd bought yesterday with the first fruits of her most
recent mission. "What kind of run was it?"
"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies," Rianna
winked. "You taught me that one."
"So I did," Kris shrugged. "Here, why don't we get something
to eat while we catch up on each other?"
"Sounds good to me," Rianna smiled. "You're buying."
"I'm buying?" Kris said. "I thought you were in the money."
"I am," Rianna grinned. "and I want to stay that way."

"What an incredible sight. It's something I never get tired
of seeing, no matter where I go."
The plates from a satisfying dinner at Kelly's Starview Bistro
lay stacked in the center of Kris and Rianna's portside table. Rianna
stared out through the porthole into space, looking beyond the
multicolored ships flitting around the New Orleans on one errand or
another in the Home Fleet. For once, her normally serious face bore a
look of dreaminess, as if she were remembering some old fantasy.
"You're lucky," Kris said. "You grew up in a world where
aliens were commonplace- heck, where you were an alien yourself. I
grew up on Earth before First Contact... I was always afraid of the
stars."
Rianna shook her head. "Hyeruul wasn't exactly rosy for us
aliens. The Santovasku Empire was always trying to flatten Hyeruul
back in its heyday. Some of the more tightassed Hyelians are still
prejudiced against us because of that. Queen Tz'ldah wasn't one of
those, thank the gods. Still, if it wasn't for my Mom's training, I
think I would've gone around the bend when I was a teenager. I wanted
to get away from all those Hyelians who saw me as a Santovasku and
nothing more.
"'Course it didn't work out quite like I intended, but I got
out." Rianna's smile was a bit more rueful than before.
"Things almost never turn out as you intend," Kris nodded.
"Look at me. I wanted to help fight a revolution, and I ended up with
my own little nation to worry about."
"That's right, you're the commander of a revolution for hire
or something, aren't you?" Rianna grinned wickedly at Kris, who
shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"Or something. What it really is, is me keeping about a
million people together in a cohesive nation, keeping them employed
somehow, keeping a starfleet running, and every now and then going off
and Doing the Right Thing. ... " Kris picked up his glass of water and
took a sip from it, then added, "There isn't a day that goes by where
I don't wish I could just bag it all and go back to being a dumb
fighter jock or something."
"Oh hush, I'm trying to look up to you as a role model from my
childhood days. Don't ruin it." Rianna winked at Kris as she chided
him.
Kris just barely managed to swallow the drink of water he had
in his mouth without blowing it through his nose. "Role model? Role
model?" he gasped. "I... I'm flattered... but really, you could pick a
better role model than a total idiot like me. I mean, I voluntarily
dress up in a Guinea pig costume and get blown up for thirty shows a
year so some kids get fun educational TV. Not the sign of a sane
individual!"
The mental image of Kris in his Guinea pig costume, after one
of the ubiquitous explosions, set Rianna to giggling. "You're right,
it isn't. ... but it could be worse."
"How?"
"You could do a guest spot on 'Little Tiki's Neighborhood'!!"
Both of them collapsed laughing at this- Little Tiki was the
one show that consistently beat both ThunderForce and Washuu's lab, a
mindless bit of pabulum for very young Salusian children which, after
thirty saccharine years, showed no signs of going away.
Sobering up slightly, Rianna leaned back in her chair and
explained, "Despite that, Red, you really are a role model. You always
seem to be in control of your own destiny, your own life. It was
something I didn't really have when I was a kid, something I really
wanted. You had it. That's why I admired you."
Kris smiled and leaned on the table, resting his head on one
hand. "... In charge. It's a nice illusion to have, and it's hell
keeping it up, and getting everyone else to go along with it." He
waved an arm around him, first at the people in the restaurant, then
at the ships outside the viewport. "Any one of these people here
could, at any moment, walk out on me, say no to me. At one point, I
came close to having all this taken away and destroyed, because of the
greed of a handful of people. It takes everything I have just to keep
up appearances, to play the part of Admiral Overstreet, or Redneck...
when really, I'd rather just be Kris. I've gotta be an idiot for
keeping on like this."
His smile became a bitter smirk. "Hell, I don't have a fleet.
The fleet has _me._"
"I've heard that before," Rianna grinned, then added a few
seconds later, "You sound like my Dad. He has that same sense of
obligation. ... He stuck with it. I don't think he was an idiot for
doing that."
Kris shrugged. "I dunno... y'know, sometimes I just get so
damn lonely. I mean, I don't have that many people I can talk to like
this... you, Washuu, Sparky... " Kris fell silent as he ran through
his list of friends and acquaintances. "...actually, these days that's
about it. I haven't seen Martin and his wild bunch since the wedding,
I ran into Yuri two years ago on Dunwarpin..."
Kris fell silent for a bit, and Rianna sensed a deeply buried
sense of... loneliness... rise to the surface of his emotions. He
seemed distressed as he realized just how out of touch with his old
friends he really was... and Rianna wonder just how much time he'd had
lately to make new ones, herself excepted.
Kris stared at the table, murmuring, "One of these days, I
want to find someone I can settle down with, who can help me feel...
well, help me not feel so tired so much, someone who can be there for
me when I need them, or even when I don't."
The moment had come, Rianna sensed. This is why the Force
brought them together this day. "Listen," Rianna smiled, placing a
friendly hand atop his. "You'll find somebody, or they'll find you.
Don't worry about it. Just be true to yourself and see feelings for
what they are, and you'll find that special person. Maybe sooner than
you think." The Sith teachings had little or nothing to say on
soothing pain, but Rianna felt just a little bit better for doing it
anyway. It felt right.
Kris leaned back, taking his hands away from Rianna's,
smiling ruefully. "You're right. Thanks for letting me vent at you for
a while. I just get so... " He held up his arms, hands palm-up, and
shrugged. "...well, you know how I feel, hell, you know me better than
I know me." Leaning back in his chair, he muttered, "I just wish it'd
hurry up and happen. I'm getting sick of waiting."
"Hang tough, Red," Rianna smiled. "I used to watch my Dad get
sick of waiting for stuff all the time. He lived through it. You
will too."
"Maybe," Kris shrugged, then reached into his pocket and
tossed a twenty-Mark note and a few singles onto the check tray. As he
stood up, he said, "Let's go see if we can keep Mayl from squandering
the rest of your money, hm?"
"Now *there's* an adventure." Rianna grinned as she followed
him out of the restraunt and back into the anarchy of the Bazaar.

Chapter 13/NOW

Deep Space off Wilderness Station
August 23, 2388

#i... don't... goof... very... often...#

%...it's very dark out here...quiet...lonely...%

#can't... last... much longer...#

%...deep space...dad had a dream about this...something like
this......maybe i'll tell him about this......if i make it back...%

#no... can't... give up... need to... be here...#

%i have to make it back... i need to be here...... I need to
be _here_.%

*ping* "Rianna."

Rianna slipped out of the meditative trance and allowed her
senses to rise back to the surface. Subtracto had called. "I'm
here," she said, not opening her eyes.
"We're approaching the vicinity of Wilderness Station,"
Subtracto reported. "I suggest you wake up and take manual control
before we crash into something."
Rianna opened her eyes and sat up, peering out of the darkened
cockpit at the space beyond. Wilderness was visible in the distance .
At long last, they had made it back to civilization... barely. Fields
of debris clouded her view of the station, and she stared so long at
the foggy outline of Wilderness that she nearly missed seeing the
large chunk of metal spinning slowly towards the Centurion.
When she -did- notice it, she moved. Rianna ran her hands
along the consoles with practiced ease, quickly bringing up all the
dormant systems back up to full strength. The ship hummed and whined
as the the fusion plant came back to full operating power. Grateful
for small favors like a working reactor, Rianna pushed the control
stick to the left and the maneuvering jets fired, pushing the ship to
port and away from the starfighter-sized piece of metal that would
have otherwise impacted with the right wing and made life difficult.
As she weaved the Centurion through the growing fields of
debris, a corner of Rianna's mind caught new sounds coming from the
crew quarters: "huh--whuhWAAAAA!" *THUD*
"Oops," Rianna deadpanned. Subtracto withheld comment.
"owow..." the noise from the rear continued. "huh? power...
*HOME*!" Rianna sighed, preparing herself for the next round of
hysterics. Being stranded in deep space without a hyperdrive was bad
enough, but being stranded in deep space without a hyperdrive and with
an increasingly manic Hyelian copilot, for almost two weeks, had
rapidly strained her patience to its limits. Regular meditation was
all that had kept her from snapping. Now that they were
finally near a starbase, she hoped her patience would hold out long
enough to get the ship into dock.
Just a little farther.
"Rianna!" the elf called out. "Are we there yet?? Did we make
it?? Can I have another cupcake now??"
"We're in the local space--" Rianna started to say.
"*Yes!* Open spaces fresh water hot showers real FOOD!" the
raving continued, getting louder as Mayl finally exploded into the
cockpit, still trailing a comet-tail of bedding. "I swear I'm gonna
kiss the flight deck when I..." she trailed off as she looked at the
not-light of the not-hangar they weren't in. Nothing but the same
blackness of space and a lot of debris. "...oh."
"We're in the local space," Rianna continued evenly. "But
first we have to get through this mess..." She banked the Centurion
over one of the larger hulks, this one still recognizable for what it
had once been: a GENOM Interdictor with its reactor blown out the
keel. The once mighty ship drifted with its companions in the sea of
wreckage, which dozens of salvage vessels -- some Freespacer, some
GENOM, some nonaligned -- crawled through like so many carrion
scavengers.
"Noy jitat..." Mayl gasped. "What happened to all those
ships?" Looking out at the debris field, she picked out bits and
pieces of familiar-looking wreckage; a solar panel from a TIE, the
utility fin from a Freespacer corvette, the engine compartment of an
ancient Zardon-design cruiser. "Ri..." Mayl said slowly, looking
around the wreckage, "are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I'm thinking this was one hell of a fight," Rianna said
solemnly. Just ahead she could see the shattered remains of more and
more Freespacer vessels. Also the burned out wedges of a few GENOM
Interdictors and Ikazuchis. Those Interdictors would have been bad
news for the Freespacer craft... and judging by the much higher ratio
of Freespacer dead in this graveyard, they *had* been bad news. <This
wasn't even a fight,> she thought to herself. <This was a slaughter.>
She hoped Redneck had survived this madness.
"May they all rest in peace," was all she said aloud.
"No!" Mayl said, ignoring Rianna's solemn tone. "Look at all
that neat stuff out there! Think of it! Top of the line ships, with
top of the line parts, all spread across space! Think how much MONEY
we could make off just a few pieces..."
Rianna stared at the elf, whose eyes had apparently turned
into ruupi signs. Definitely been in the ship too long...
Mayl's eyes and smile widened, if that was possible, and she
literally hopped in place as her fingerless-gloved hand pointed out
something she'd just spotted. "Oo! Oo! Looklooklook! That
fighter's almost intact, just the cockpit's wrecked! I'll bet its
fusion plant still works!!"
By this time Mayl had her nose pressed against the glass and
Rianna found the sight rather disturbingly similar to a child at the
window of a candy store, complete with drool. The image was completed
posthaste when the elf whirled and clasped her hands, pleading with
glassy eyes: "Can I pull in a couple things, pleaseplease*pleeeease*?
I'll only take a couple minutes! I promise!"
Rianna weighed her options. Much as she wanted to just get
the ship into dock and get out of it as soon as she could, Mayl's
salvage suggestion did have merit. They did, after all, need cash to
pay for the repairs the Centurion needed if it was ever going to fly
again. Sighing mentally, she noted the direction Mayl was drooling in,
and edged the Centurion in closer to the derelict ship she saw there,
while an overjoyed Mayl quickly hopped into the copilot's seat and
armed the tractor beam system.
"Come on, Seven!" Mayl muttered, grinning like a maniac as her
fingers flew with uncharacteristic grace over the control console.
"Mama needs a new hyperdrive!" Watching Mayl work the controls of the
tractor beam, Rianna wondered just how long this was really going to
take... with the cargo hold empty, Mayl was unlikely to stop at just
"a couple things". As the brilliant blue beam lanced out and locked
onto the rear quarter of their salvage target, Rianna sighed and sank
back into her own chair, resigning herself to a longer wait, letting
her eyes and her thoughts wander out into the devastation beyond...
%...i need to be here...%
Rianna blinked, an odd feeling coming over her. There was
something...... or was it someone...? She couldn't tell. She closed
her eyes, focusing...
%...i need to be here......
%...no, i need to be _there_...%
She hadn't consciously realized she'd increased the power to
the thrusters until Mayl abruptly whined at her. "Riiiii, what are
you doing?? Slow down! I'm trying to get some money here!"
"Let it go, Mayl."
"What?!" Mayl protested. "But I've almost--"
"*DON'T*. Argue. With. Me." Rianna suddenly growled in a
Force-tipped voice that promised a world of pain if not obeyed.
Mayl gulped and, with a tearful "bye bye money", shut off the
beam, her ears drooping.
Without another word, Rianna pushed the thrusters to full
power, taking the Centurion on an almost straight path through the
carnage for a minute or two. When she finally did begin to
decelerate, Mayl saw that they were pulling up alongside a Freespacer
X-Wing.
Or rather, what was left of a Freespacer X-Wing, which is to
say, not very much. It was almost broken in two, with a gaping hole
where the astromech droid should have been -- Subtracto muttered
something unintelligible at the sight -- one engine and two s-foils
blown completely away, the other three engines hopelessly ruined, the
cockpit canopy shattered into tiny fragments. In short, it was quite
dead and, in Mayl's eyes, worthless. It might pay for their docking
fee at Wilderness, but that was about it.
"This is it," Rianna said, mostly to herself.
Mayl had arched an ear and was on the edge of asking what in
Ghann'yn's name she was talking about when Rianna spoke again: "Get a
lock on the cockpit of that fighter." It was a command, not a
request. Mayl obliged, and again the blue beam lanced forth.
"Tractors locked... got it."
"Let's see, now..." Rianna brought up a display on her MFD,
studying it closely. "oh ho! There she is!"
"There what is?"
"Focus the beam on the cockpit and turn up the pull."
"Why?" Mayl asked, perplexedly studying what her own MFD was
telling her. "There's nothing there except that grakky old corpse."
"That's not a corpse."
"What?"
"Subtracto, pressurize the cargo bay as soon as she's in!"
Rianna rose from her chair and headed back into the body of the ship.
Mayl was thoroughly confused by now, but nevertheless did as she'd
been asked. Soon enough, the tractor beam had pulled the body out of
the wreck and over to the Centurion, and the loud whirring and
clanking of machinery announced that the automatic loaders had done
their job, followed by a hissing noise and a slight change in the
cabin pressure as atmosphere flooded the cargo bays. Not knowing what
else to do now, Mayl hurried after Rianna.
By the time Mayl negotiated the hatchway leading to the cargo
bay, Rianna was leaning over what they'd recovered. Mayl hurried over
to take a closer look. Whoever (or whatever) it was, it didn't look
very good, even for a corpse. Mayl began removing what remained of the
flight suit; when she removed the helmet, a shower of dull red hair
fell out; only a few strands still clung to the scalp and eyebrows.
The pilot's skin had turned an ugly, morbid gray, tough and cold. The
face had withered into a death masque, eyes mercifully closed. Here
and there on the body, the wrinkled gray skin was smoother and tender,
apparently scarred and healed. Blood flaked off with every minor shift
of the body, leaving piles of red flakes on the deck.
"Yuck!" Mayl wrinkled her noise and quirked her ears. "Who's
the peihaat slime?"
Rianna said nothing, just peered more closely at the withered
form. The body showed no pulse, no respiration, not the tiniest
outward sign of life. And yet... She reached out and touched her
fingertips to the forehead...
#kris is alive kris cares about me!#
Rianna almost jumped back, her suspicion finally confirmed.
"....it's Washuu."
"Washuu? Can't be! What'd Washuu be doing in a starfighter?"
"Living."
"Ri, these ears aren't just to make me look cute," Mayl
quipped in her best attempt at a get-in-touch-with-reality voice. "If
there was anything working in that husk, I'd know!"
*Thup...thump.*
A heartbeat. From the body. It stopped Mayl dead in her
tracks, both physical and mental, and she just stared.
"By the two moons..." she breathed at length.
"She's alive." Rianna had become deadly serious. "Get the
medkit, then contact the station and--"
*WHOOM!*
"What was that?!" Mayl shrieked as the ship rocked violently,
nearly throwing them off their feet.
"Ladies," Subtracto's voice came over the speakers, with more
than a little urgency. "Could I direct your attention to the five
heavily armed ships surrounding us?"

Rianna came charging back up to the cockpit, having taken only
a moment to tell Mayl to stay put and keep Washuu from getting thrown
around, and jumped into her seat, immediately finding herself facing
two large salvage freighters, both heavily armed and armored and,
according to the targeting display, well-shielded as well. The radar
also reported two more hostile ships to either side, and one more
to the rear, and longer range scans indicated that more vessels were
converging on this position. Rianna was about to open a channel to one
of the freighters and demand to know what was going on, when the
vessel to their portside beat her to it: her MFD resolved into a
communications screen and the image of a poorly dressed and poorly
groomed human male presented itself.
"Afternoon," the pirate leader said with a wry grin. "Me and
my buddies here, we couldn't help noticing how you dropped that nice
expensive fusion plant back there, and came running over here to get
something out of this old fighter."
"So why don't you go pick up the fusion plant," Rianna
replied, not smiling at all. "And mind your own business? What I
salvage is my business."
"Sorry, babe," the pirate sneered. "I dunno what you pulled
outta that fighter -- my people couldn't get a good look. But
whatever it is, it must be pretty valuable if you dropped a high-end
fusion plant to get it. Just hand it over and we can forget about
this, huh?"
Rianna glared back at the cretin, feeling the power of the
Dark Side quietly welling up inside her. These fuckers had no
intention of letting her get away, that was clear. "And supposing I
don't want to hand it over?"
"Then you're gonna be sorry you messed with us, sweetheart,"
another pirate voice said, prompting a couple chuckles in the
background.
"Uh-huh," Rianna quipped, arming both her missile launchers
and priming her Steltek guns (special plasma weapons based on
Santovasku technology, built for her by a good friend and fellow
civ-hunter). In an instant she had trained both weapons on the
freighter directly in front of her. "Well I've got news for you
assholes: you picked the wrong privateer to mess with." With that she
squeezed the triggers.
Two Spiculum IR missiles shot from the front launchers, as the
Steltek guns spat several fast-moving blasts of green fire at the
bridge of the freighter. The blasts tore into the forward deflector
shields, knocking them down to a meager 20% in a matter of seconds,
and before the startled bridge crew even had time to react to that,
the missiles struck. The first one killed the shields completely,
and the second one passed unhindered through the bridge viewports,
detonating inside. There was a substantial explosion, and the
freighter drifted away, lifeless, as the Centurion kicked in the
afterburners and rocketed forward, narrowly avoiding a huge hail of
laser and particle fire from the other vessels.
"WHAT THE--?!?" the pirate leader hollered, forgetting for a
moment that he was still on the open frequency. "HOW THE FUCK DID SHE
DO THAT?!"
Not one to pass up an invitation, Rianna activated her comm.
"Simple. I have a better ship, and better guns, than all of your
sorry asses put together. And I'm also smarter than you, asshole."
"NAIL HER ASS!!" he screeched in response. That bitch was
gonna pay for what she'd done.
Rianna kept her finger on the afterburner switch, trying to
put as much distance between her and the pirates as possible. Her
bloodlust, encouraged by her tapping of the Dark Side, cried out for
combat, to teach these losers a lesson they'd never forget. The rest
of her, however, was mindful of the fact that she how had a very
fragile passenger in the hold, which made combat maneuvering a
hazardous proposition. More importantly, good fusion plant and
working guns aside, the ship was liable to fold at any time, given
sufficient provocation. Better to run like hell and get into port.
She channeled her anger by focusing her will in front of the ship,
willing all the myriad pieces of debris to *get out of the way*. And
they did just that, leaping out of the flight path just in time for
the gunboat to rocket past.
"Centurion 295-CH to Wilderness Station," Rianna called. "I
could use a little help out here!" The freighters and corvettes
behind her were in pursuit, making surprisingly good speed, while a
new trio of corvettes, these if anything better armed than her
pursuers, formed ranks and turned to face her.
The missile lock warning on her radar pinged, and then warned
of an incoming projectile from the rear. No, make that several
incoming projectiles. The scanners identified them as concussion
missiles, fast enough to overtake her even with full afterburner. And
again, maneuvers which would normally shake them were not an option.
"Damn," she growled. "Subtracto, take the rear turret and intercept
those missiles!"
"Acknowledged," Subtracto replied. Thus temporarily relieved
of that problem, Rianna was left free to concentrate on the one which
might be ahead- the corvettes between her and Wilderness. If
they were hostiles as well, there was going to be a bit of a
problem...
"295-CH," a communication came through. "This is corvette
group Crimson, Wilderness Station Defense; we have you under our guns.
We'll get these sharks off your tail." The three corvettes of Crimson
group accelerated, and belatedly the Centurion's IFF systems tagged
them as friendlies.
"Thanks, Crimson," Rianna replied. "But I need some
anti-missile action and I need it fast!" Subtracto had managed to
down the closest missiles with the rear tachyon guns, but the
corvettes had launched several more in the meantime.
"We're on it, 295-CH." Rianna shot through the corvette group,
which opened up with its own weapons as soon as she was clear. A
moment later, the missile lock warning on the radar went out, and
Subtracto reported several detonations of anti-missile rockets behind
them.
Finally relaxing, Rianna released the afterburner key and
throttled back to a safer speed for navigating the debris field, the
immediate danger past. Calling up a rear view on her MFD, she watched
as the two battle groups engaged, and saw several more ships from all
sides joining in the melee as well. In another time and place she
might have stopped to watch the show, but she had more immediate
concerns at the moment.
"Wilderness, I have a medical situation," Rianna keyed her
comm. "Need priority clearance, please."
"Clearance granted, 295-CH," came the reply. "Medical crew
will be, y'know, on station at landing bay 2, slip 15. Anything else
you need?"
"Yes, I need you to deliver a message to Redneck, priority one
subetheric, yesterday if not sooner."
"Who?" the comm officer asked, a bit perplexed.
"Admiral Kris Overstreet, the _Freespacer_fleet_commander_??"
Rianna fought back a wave of anxious fury, suddenly reminded that
Redneck was not one of the better known citizens of the galaxy,
despite his exploits over the past centuries. (Not unlike her own
father, she noted wryly.)
"Oh, uh...isn't that this guy they had, y'know, on Friday's
rerun of ThunderForce Gold?" The controller obviously had no semblance
of a clue, or reality.
"Never mind, control," Rianna grumbled, knowing the message
would never get there in time at this rate. "I'll take care of that
myself. Just have that medical team ready."
"Roger that, 295-CH. Wilderness out."
Rianna muttered a few choice obscenities under her breath as
soon as the connection was cut. "Subtracto," she ordered. "Go to
autopilot and get the ship into dock. I'll be in the rear."
"Acknowledged, Rianna," Subtracto replied. "Going to
autopilot."
With that taken care of, Rianna got up and hurried
back toward the cargo bay, weighing her options.

*Thup...thump.*
Mayl's ears twitched at the sound; otherwise, Rianna might not
have known what Mayl was talking about when she entered the cargo bay.
"Five _minutes_?" Mayl said, looking down at the body. "Why is her
heartbeat so slow?"
"Mayl," Rianna replied, clearly low on patience. "If I shot
you five or six times with a starship-grade laser and left you in hard
vacuum for over a week, how fast would _your_ heart be beating?"
"...um. Okay, yyyeah," the Hyelian answered, a trickle of
sweat running down the side of her face.
Rianna looked Washuu over and weighed the options. From what
little she knew of Washuu, there was very little any doctor on
Wilderness could do for her. At 20,000 years of age, nobody really
knew what her physiology was really like except perhaps for Washuu
herself. Rianna's Force talents didn't include healing, and all the
Force sensitivity in the world wouldn't do Rianna a bit of good, for
Washuu was Force-blind, making Rianna's mental skills useless. No,
from what Rianna knew of Washuu, there was only one person who might
possibly be in a position to understand, and deal with, this
situation.
"Mayl," she said as she sat down, cross-legged, in front of
Washuu. "Do me a favor. If I pass out, make sure I don't fall on top
of her, okay?"
"Uh... right, sure," Mayl said, ears quirked in confusion.
Rianna took in and let out a deep breath, closed her eyes, and
began to focus. She knew he was alive; somehow, at least that much
was certain. Now, wherever he was, she had to find him. Tapping once
more into the power of the Force, feeling the Dark Side reach out to
her once more and grant her the power she needed to realize her aims,
she sent her awareness outward, searching... calling...

* * *

"Red, please, let me in."
"Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but Commodore Overstreet has left
specific instructions not to be disturbed."
"Kris, please, let me talk to you, let someone talk to you!"
"Lieutenant Curtiss, please, I -must- ask you to leave this
office immediately."
"Kris, for God's sake, let me IN!!"
Kris sat in his office on the CFA Washington, staring
listlessly at the reports from the Quartermaster office, paying little
attention to the commotion outside. He didn't care about how expensive
raw materials for shipbuilding had suddenly become, or how the new
trainees would be short of equipment, or any of a number of other
problems the bureaucrats were shoving back at him. He didn't even
notice Terri's shrieks stop, totally missed her boots stamping away
down the corridor.
Duty had sustained him after Wilderness, duty and an
indistinct urge for revenge. With the war over, his sense of duty had
collapsed, replaced by a deep depression which had only lifted
slightly that night two days before with Rayna, when he'd managed to
get stinking drunk... and which came rushing back when he read that
message...
Looking out the window into the Home Fleet, Kris thought of
the losses they'd incurred. Twenty thousand dead at Wilderness.
Another thirty dead in the big battle, and three more with the
starfighter combat over Zeta Cygni and the AT&T.
Each time, as he considered each death, his mind returned to
one name.
Washuu.
For so long, he'd taken the little mad scientist for granted,
the stable anchor he held on to as all the others around him changed,
grew older, and more often than not, died. The person who understood
him better than anyone- than Sparky, than Rianna, than Terri, anyone.
And he'd totally missed the fact, somehow, that he loved her.
Goddamn pride, he thought, holding a grudge for four hundred
years, ignoring your feelings, then not seeing them for what they
were. And now it's too late... Another crying fit took him deeper into
depression. Had anyone been there to see, the hint of a red aura might
have caught their eye, as Kris let the wave of despair and regret wash
over him.
He almost missed the sudden jab of cold fear in his gut- it
resonated so well with his current emotion- but the voiceless,
wordless message which followed caught his attention.
%Red.%
An image of a man in a windbreaker, tall, unafraid, and
perpetually cheerful, popped into Kris' mind... an idealized image, he
noted, of himself.
*I am here,* he responded, and he reached back along the link,
securing it with his own meager skills. His mind formed another image,
which fluttered down the link before he could recall it; a dark woman,
armored and caped and yet also wearing a dingy flight suit; *Rianna.*
%Come here.%
Another image, a debris field, a large station- Wilderness.
*Why?* he asked, confusion and pain bleeding into the sending.
Why should he do anything, anymore?
%She needs you now.%
And a third image appeared.
*Washuu...*
Kris gulped, shaking violently.
*I come,* he sent, and the link collapsed. Kris fell back into
his seat, sweating, cold tremors seizing his body. God help me, he
thought, I have to get to Wilderness. Right this fucking minute.
Steadying himself as much as he could, he leaped up and ran through
the office door, scattering loose papers and datapadds behind him.

Mayl caught Rianna as she fell forward, gasping for air,
exhausted. "He... he is coming," Rianna gasped, eyes still closed,
voice barely audible.
"Who? Ri, who's coming, what are you talking about?" Mayl
asked.
"He is coming," Rianna repeated, and then she sagged limply in
Mayl's hands. Her breathing smoothed and deepened, and before Mayl
realized it, Rianna was fast asleep.
"Ri?" Mayl asked, shaking Rianna slightly. When this produced
no response, she shook harder, shouting, "Rianna, wake _up!_" Rianna
didn't even flinch.
Ears drooping, Mayl laid Rianna beside Washuu's body. Just
great, she thought to herself, first we lose a great chance to clean
up on salvage, then we have to fight off a bunch of pirates to save
someone who may or may not be alive, and now I've got _two_ bodies to
hand over to the medics when we land.
Why couldn't privateering ever be easy?

Ch. 14/THEN

CFA Washington
May 22, 2300

".. and therefore, by two-thirds majority vote on two-thirds
of all ships in the Tactical Fleet, the Confederate Freespacers
Mercenary Fleet issues Vice Admiral Robert Hemphill, a vote of No
Confidence, and hereby demands that he resign from his position as
Commander in Chief of all CFMF forces, effective immediately. Refusal
to comply will result in a courts martial as per the guidelines set
down in Article XVI of the CFMF Book of Regulations."
Kris nodded with satisfaction as he slid the index cards into
his dress tunic's breast pocket. As of 2032 hours Fleet time the
previous night, the words had the weight of law; rather than call for
a fleet-wide election, which Hemphill would have denied or stalled,
Kris had organized individual elections on each ship, one at a time,
apparently as a spontaneous reaction to Hemphill's ultratimid
leadership.
Of course, it fooled nobody. It wasn't meant to. But the
individual elections were out of Hemphill's hands to control, leaving
him helpless before the law of the fleet.
Of course, the vote claimed a couple of casualties. JJ #15 had
been the first, court-martialed and dismissed, taking the fall for
leading the renegade CFMF forces' defection. As with any Vote of
Confidence, a number of captains and first officers also fell by the
wayside: some of them Hemphill's political cronies, others just
unpopular. Kris took notes on each officer removed; some of them were
worth keeping around for future commands, if the openings came around.
Hemphill, of course, was not.
Kris looked at the reflection in the mirror- not all that
different, really, from the Condorcets, only with dark eyes and
blonde-red hair instead of the straw-yellow hair and blue-grey eyes
the many JJs had sported down the years. His new uniform fit
excellently, the grey fabric and gold trim actually complimenting his
body instead of hanging on him like a pillowcase.
The door chimed, drawing Kris out of his self-examination.
"C'min!" he called, giving his tunic a last brush before turning to
face whoever was coming through the door.
Lieutenant Azland stepped through the door, her posture rigid
and military- robotic? Kris smirked to himself, remembering her
origins. "What can I do for your, Lieutenant?"
It didn't quite register with Kris that May's eyes had turned
bright, glowing red.

<N7A-M1 KILLER DOLL SYSTEMS ACTIVE>
<TARGETING PROTOCOL ACTIVE>
<TARGET CONFIRMED - FIRING>

May's arm jerked upwards, a BlasTech BL-22 holdout blaster
pistol dropping into her palm as it came up, shots firing as soon as
her hand wrapped around the grip. Kris grunted as the first couple of
bolts caught him by surprise, slamming into his heart, burning a hole
in his chest...
Kris fell to his knees, forced himself to concentrate, relax,
open himself to the Force... he reached out mentally, sensed the power
pack in the blaster's magazine, quietly drained it, letting the last
few shots get absorbed by his system. As he stood up and ignited his
beamstaff, his chest finished healing itself, the skin growing back
beneath his scorched, bloodied tunic.
"Why?" Kris said quietly, unconsciously shifting into a
defensive posture with his staff. "Why are you trying to kill me?"

<ERROR! PISTOL MALFUNCTION>
<SHOTS FIRED: 7>
<SHOTS HIT: 100%>
<EFFECTIVENESS: NONE>
<MANUAL COMBAT PROTOCOL ACTIVE>
<STRENGTH BOOST PROTOCOL ACTIVE>
<ANALYZING TARGET COMBAT STANCE>
<ANALYZING 743,212 POSSIBLE RESPONSES.... DONE>
<TARGET CONFIRMED - ATTACKING>

May made no sound, dropped the gun, then slid beneath and to
the right of Kris' staff, rising up just beside his right shoulder.
With her right hand, she gripped his shoulder, while her left hand
rose to deliver a killer blow to the back of his neck.
Kris leaned backward, spun his hands around, brought his
beamstaff up across May's upper right arm, severing it in a spray of
sparks and Buma nutrient fluid.
With May's lower arm hanging limp from his shoulder, fingers
still closed in a crushing grip, Kris pivoted on his right foot,
stepping away from May's blow. As May's arm came down, Kris twirled
his staff around his body, cutting the arm off at the shoulder,
watching dispassionately as the flesh and metal fell to the ground,
leaving torn skin and titanium gears sticking out of the Buma.
"You can't win, May," Kris said quietly. "Talk to me. You
don't have to die like this. Why did you attack me?"

<ERROR! STRUCTURAL FAILURE- RIGHT ARM, LEFT ARM>
<ERROR! NUTRIENT LOSS - SEALING>
<ERROR! ELECTRICAL SYSTEM SHORTS - REPAIRING>
<ATTACK UNSUCCESSFUL>
<ESTIMATED CHANCES OF SUCCESSFUL ATTACK: 0.0%>
<ESTIMATED CHANCES OF ESCAPE: 0.0%>
<SELF DESTRUCT PROTOCOL ACTIVE>
<ERROR!! SELF DESTRUCT PROTOCOL CORRUPTED - UNABLE TO PROCESS- THROTTLING>
<ERROR!! DEFENSE PROTOCOL CORRUPTED - UNABLE TO PROCESS - THROTTLING>
<ERROR!! N7A-M1 KILLER DOLL SYSTEMS --->
<----------------------------->
<----------------------------->

May collapsed to the floor, her eyes returning to their normal
purple color, her shoulder and arm stump leaking traces of nutrient
fluid into the carpeting. She looked up at Kris, blinked, and said
quietly, "I appear to have lost both my arms, Admiral. Can you tell me
what has happened?"
Kris let the beamsaber wink out of existence and knelt beside
the wounded Buma. "Status report, Lieutenant," he said quietly.
"My memory has... holes... in it, Admiral," May said at last.
Her eyes shifted in and out of focus, her voice slurred slightly as
she added, "My data banks seem to be partially corrupted... I am
receiving multiple errors... " Her eyes focused on Kris again, and a
single tear crept down her cheek. "The corruption appears to be
growing.... Admiral, I'm scared."
Kris lifted May's torso off the floor, looked into the dark,
darker eyes, whispered, "Can't you do anything to stop the
corruption?"
May tried to nod; the motion degenerated into a few stiff
jerks down and up. "Iii... I think so, Admiral. Emergency protection
mode-" May's body went stiff and cold, her eyes darkening almost to
total blackness.
"May?" Kris gave May a quick shake. "Lieutenant Azland,
respond."
May didn't make a move.
Kris gripped May's maimed, motionless body to his chest and
shouted, "WASHUU!!!"
The sound echoed through the corridors of the still awakening
ship.
"WASHUUUUUU!!!!!"

Ch. 14/NOW

Washuu's Lab
August 23, 2388

"ZATHRAS!"
The voice which roared through the Lab bounced off the walls,
conduits, tanks and landscaping with the wild energy of a desperate
man. The sound carried far beyond the range of intelligibility,
echoing miles away from the main 'foyer' region into dark corners where
even the Lab's rightful mistress seldom went anymore. It was hardly
the most efficient method of summoning someone- after all, the Lab
spread out among the surfaces of five M-class planets- but it was none
the less impressive.
The object of the summons shambled down one of the corridors
into the 'foyer' of the Lab. "Zathras is coming," he mumbled. "Zathras
was in the middle of packing his favorite socks, but that is not
important, no. Socks knit in the Atlantean Empire, no, those are not
important. Great Professor Washuu's experiment, that-"
Kris grabbed Zathras' vest and stared down into his lumpy,
hairy face. "I need to move the Lab door," he snarled, "show me how
it's done. NOW."
"Zathras does not know." Zathras smiled reassuringly as Kris
lifted him off the floor. "Knowing, Zathras would show. Not knowing,
Zathras cannot show. Zathras would love to show, but Zathras does not
have," click-click-click, "have the knack."
Kris dropped Zathras back to the floor, mouthing silent
obscenities as he looked around in frustration. Finally, his eyes
rested on the lonely holoterm still active in the foyer. Pointing to
the terminal, he asked, "Do you know how to use that?"
Zathras shrugs. "Zathras thinks he does. Of course, Zathras
has been wrong before, but Zathras will try his best."
"Good," Kris nodded. "I need to make an interdimensional call.
You've got five minutes to show me how."

The paramedic crew scrambled up the Centurion's main gangplank
almost as soon as it dropped onto the deck of Wilderness Station's
Hangar Two. The leader of the group paid little attention to the mess,
or the fact that the elf piloting the ship was still in her nightgown,
and asked, "Where's the medical emergency?"
"Cargo hold," she replied immediately, favoring the team with
a glance before marching ahead of them. "This way. I've done
everything I can to keep things stable."
The medics followed the elf through the narrow passageway
through the crew compartments and into the cargo bay. Once inside, the
medics looked at the two figures lying flat on the deck- one a
withered, scarred mummy, the other an unconscious young woman with
jet-black hair and golden horns- for all of a second before bringing
up a stretcher and loading Rianna onto it. "Don't worry," the medics'
leader said, "she should be all right now."
Mayl gave the leader a blank stare as he watched his crew
start to wheel Rianna's limp form back the way they'd come. "Um, hey!"
she barked at last, grabbing him by the arm as he was about to follow
them. "What, what -- where are you doing?"
The medic rolled his eyes and said, "Where we are going is
sickbay. What we are doing is taking this young lady there. You -did-
call us for a medical emergency, remember?"
"Yeah, I did, and you left her _lying_ there!" she huffed,
putting her fists on her hips. "Rianna'll get better if she has time
to sleep it off, but Professor Hakubi needs help _now_!"
"You mean -that?-" the medic asked, jerking a thumb at the
other body on the deck. "Miss, I hate to break this to you, but the
only help that'll do -that- any good will be a mortician."
"Look," Mayl snapped, now becoming visibly impatient, "I know
she looks bad -- first I saw of her, I thought the same thing -- but I
heard her heart beat! She _is_ alive in there, just _barely_, and she
needs help!"
"All right, all right," the medic groaned, pulling out a
tricorder and holding it over the body. "What species is she?"
Mayl opened her mouth to reply, paused, looked thoughtful for
a moment, and then said, "I'm not exactly sure ... some sort of
prolonged human, I'd guess. She's looked about twelve for as long as
I've known her."
"Hm." The medic looked at the scanner's readout for several
moments before closing it up again. "Miss, I'm sorry, but what you
heard must have been some random spasm. I'm only reading a trace of
brain activity, her blood pressure is nonexistent, and there's no sign
of movement or chemical activity at the cellular level." The tricorder
beeped as Mayl's ears picked up another of those slow thup-thumps.
"There's another one now," the medic said, not bothering to reopen the
tricorder.
"There it was!" Mayl chirped frantically, gesturing at the
withered body. "Another heartbeat! That one was ... almost six
minutes! Tch'unnk'luongo, she's getting worse! Please, get a gurney
up here quick!"
"Now, look, miss," the medic said firmly, "we're already
stuffed full of refugees and casualties from the past week. Thanks to
those scavengers fighting each other, we're getting more in every
hour. We're operating with volunteers and conscripts and half the
equipment and supplies we should have. We don't have time or
facilities to waste on a dead woman. I'm sorry."
"She's _not_ _dead_, you j'ttatten--!" Mayl cut off her next
line of curses, and instead emphasized her point by hoisting the
hapless physician up off his feet by his lapels and roaring, "Get that
gurney up here or they're going to have to send one FOR YOU!"
The medic stared down at the furious elf and, rather than
argue, waved to one of the other medics. "Do what she says," he
said shakily.
"THANK you," Mayl sighed, dropping him to his feet. She stood
and watched while the medics loaded the body onto another gurney and
wheeled both down the loading ramp. She followed in their steps as
they wheeled them down the concourse, through an elevator, and into a
triage room in the station's main sickbay, along with dozens of other
forms, all quiet.
Left alone with Rianna and the mummy, Mayl turned her
attention to the withered figure on the gurney. What did you want to
fly into that battle for? she thought. You never went into a battle
before. You hated fighting. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen you
leave your lab...
Mayl's thoughts were interrupted by a quiet exchange just
beyond the sickbay doors. The first voice she recognized as one of the
orderlies: "Sir, you aren't permitted in there."
The second voice, which Mayl really hadn't expected, at least
not so soon, said in that funny way Rianna used when she really wanted
something badly, >>I have a perfect right to see my patient.<<
"You have a perfect right to see your patient," the orderly
echoed.
>>There is nothing wrong with me going in,<< Redneck's voice
continued.
"There is nothing wrong with you going in," the orderly
replied.
(>>Have a nice day, sir,<<) Redneck's voice muttered.
"Have a nice day, sir," the orderly replied.
A moment later, a wild-haired, anxious-looking Kris Overstreet
strode into the room, followed closely by Gina Shannon. Both wore lab
coats, although Red looked like he'd slept in his. When he saw Mayl,
his scowl turned into a wild, anxious stare. "Mayl!" he gasped. "Thank
God! Where's Washuu?"
Mayl's fearful eyes regarded him for a moment before her hand
dutifully pointed to a stretcher, where the small, frail form of
Washuu Hakubi lay in alarming stillness.
Red's jaw dropped visibly at the sight of the shriveled body
on the stretcher. "Oh, my God..." he gasped. Holding a hand out, he
barked, "Scanner." Gina dropped a tricorder into the waiting hand, and
with rapid, fumbling movements, Kris opened the case, pulled out the
remote sensor and ran it across the body, muttering incomprehensibly
as he did so.
"Her..." Mayl's voice caught in her throat. She swallowed
and continued, "Her last heartbeat was ... about three minutes ago.
They're ... about six-and-a-half minutes apart now ... I hope you have
an idea..."
"...so do I," Red muttered. "She's in hibernation, must have
been for days and days..." He slapped the tricorder's case shut, then
tried to replace the sensor, reopened the tricorder, dropped the
sensor into place, and slung the still-open scanner over his shoulder.
"Help me with the stretcher, for God's sake, we gotta get her to the
Lab, come on, Christ this is all my fault..."
Mayl moved quickly, taking the foot of the gurney with both
hands and guiding it in the Admiral's wake. "We wouldn't've even
found her without Rianna's help ... I think she heard her calling for
help or something. She collapsed after calling for you; she's a
couple stretchers over that way." She waved momentarily with one
arm.
"Bring her too," Kris ordered, not looking up. Under his voice
he began muttering, as his hand guided the gurney forward,
"christWashuulivedammitcomeonstaywithus..."
Gina stepped aside to allow Redneck to pass, then walked back
to help Mayl with the second gurney. Mayl already had Rianna's
stretcher pointed in Red's direction when Gina grabbed the opposite
edge and pulled it forward. "So," Mayl asked quietly, "d'you think'll
pull through?"
"I honestly don't know," Gina said. "If she doesn't, though,
it'll kill Kris."
"I -meant- him," Mayl whispered, giving a long, worried look to
the back of Redneck's head before returning her concentration to the
task at hand.
"I don't know about you," Gina answered, "but if it weren't
for the fact that he knows Washuu's system as well as anyone, if not
better, I wouldn't let him near anything sharp."
The three proceeded in silence (except for Kris' mumbling) to
a pair of sliding doors with a stylized GD emblem printed in gold on
them. The G and D parted, and the trio stepped through them into
Gina's personal lab complex, and through a second set of doors into
the foyer of Washuu's lab. Once Gina's Lab Door closed behind them,
Kris brought the procession to a halt, unpacked his tricorder, and
waved its sensor over Rianna. Nodding at the result, he waved towards
a distant doorway. "Gina, take Ri over to the bunk and get her bedded
in. She'll be fine with some sleep."
Turning to Mayl, he asked, "How did you find Washuu, anyway? I
thought she was blasted to bits."
"That's not too far from the truth," she replied quietly. "We
were about to pick up some prime parts for salvage when Rianna had me
dump what I was after and flew us to what was left of a Dragonfly. It
was completely demolished -- even the service droid was gone -- but
she was still in one piece, in the cockpit."
"My God," Kris gasped. Turning away from Mayl and the gurney,
he bellowed, "ZATHRAS!!!" Mayl's ears rang from the sheer volume of
the shout. and even as she dipped her ears to muffle the echo he
shouted even louder, "**ZATH-RAAAAAS!!!!!**"
"owie."
A bent-looking man, with strange sideburns framing a
misshapen-looking face, shambled over to them. "Zathras is coming!" he
called. "What can Zathras do to help? Zathras is always glad to help."
Pausing, the strange man looked up thoughtfully and said, "Wait. This
is not strictly true. Sometimes Zathras is very miserable to help.
Other times Zathras is indifferent. But mostly, Zathras accepts his
fate. Zathras must help, therefore-"
"Can it," Red barked. "Get me pencil, paper, something for
Mayl to eat, something for Mayl to wear, and then help me transfer
Washuu to the examination table."
Zathras nodded. "Please to follow Zathras, young miss," he
rasped. "You are in good hands with Zathras."
Mayl nodded, but paused a moment to give Kris's arm a
reassuring squeeze. She wanted to tell him things would work out, but
the words refused to come out; probably because she wasn't sure she
believed them herself. Instead, she nodded, and then followed Zathras
in silence.

Mayl returned wearing a red and green wrap and a confused
expression. The reason for the confusion, or for a great part of it,
shambled along with a tray piled high with sandwiches, maintaining a
steady monologue. "Zathras is too old, far too old to be looking for
work. But Zathras' retirement plan went -phfft- with Atlantis, so
Zathras must work to eat. It is a hard life, but Zathras does not
complain." Mayl almost choked at that last; Zathras' speech seemed to
be nothing but complaints.
The two walked slowly to the examination area, where Red stood
staring over Washuu's body. In the time Mayl had spent with Mr.
Sunshine, Kris had found an IV stand and a bottle of some clear liquid
and had begun drip-feeding Washuu. His uniform tunic and lab coat lay
draped over one of the nearby chairs, leaving him in his duty-uniform
shirt and slacks. He scribbled now and again on a small scratchpad,
now slowly and thoughtfully, now crossing out something angrily. He
paid no attention to the newcomers, save to reach out with his writing
hand and take the top sandwich from Zathras' tray.
Mayl nodded absently at the latest missive from her guide,
almost grateful for the distraction provided by the Admiral's
contagious intensity. She started to say something to him, but
immediately swallowed it; the answer to her asinine question was plain
in sight. Washuu wasn't doing okay, and neither was he. Carefully
taking the next sandwich from Zathras' plate and letting the latest
turn of his diatribe go unnoticed, she craned her neck to try to make
sense of the notepad, but she was too far back to read the scattered
and panicked handwriting.
Sighing, she shrank back and contented herself with just
watching for the time being, hardly noticing as she put the sandwich
repeatedly to her mouth, or even when her hand reached over to pick up
another one.
Five sandwiches later, she realized that her presence was
accomplishing nothing. Clearing her throat, she offered a small
"Excuse me..."
Kris looked up from his scribbling and grunted, "What's up?"
"I, um," Mayl stammered, "I'd better get back to the ship. I
just remembered that we left Subtracto all alone to deal with the
docking fees, and I need to get out there while there's still enough
salvage to pay for the hyperdrive repairs we need."
Kris nodded at this, then reached into his hip pocket and
withdrew a checkbook. He began making out a check and stopped when
he noticed he was doing it in pencil. Grumbling to himself, he
withdrew his wallet and took out an credit card. "Here," he muttered,
handing it to Mayl.
"Um, that's really not, um, necessary, Admiral," Mayl
protested weakly. "I mean, I just, um..."
"There ain't no fuckin' way your ship is fit for that feeding
frenzy they call a salvage operation," Red growled. "TAKE it."
Mayl paused, then accepted the card. "Thank you," she said
quietly. "I'll ... I'll see to it you're paid back for everything we
use."
Kris grunted and turned his attention back to Washuu's body.
Slowly at first, then with increasing confidence, he wrote out a list.
"Zathras," he said, "I want you to find these for me..."
He barely noticed as Mayl showed herself out.

Ch. 15/THEN

CFA Washington
May 24, 2300

Sparky watched as Kris paced back and forth across his office
floor, letting his head rotate slightly every now and again to follow
Kris' frequent glances at the lab door. Two days had passed since
Washuu had taken Lieutenant Azland's body into the lab, two days of
investigation, additional security, and everything else important on
hold while everyone waited for the medical report.. or autopsy.
Kris had been persuaded to put on a new shirt and tunic, but
that was it for grooming or rest during the past two days. He'd
crammed sandwiches down his throat while he studied May's service
record and background end to end, called up every officer who'd served
with May for testimony (some at 0200 in the morning), flown down to
Saenar to get the report from the spooks at Imperial Salusian
Intelligence, even bar-crawled every single dive in the bad parts of
the CFA New Orleans to catch any hint of a rumor concerning May Azland
or GENOM's prototype testing facilities on Niogi.
May had come up clean. Spotlessly clean. Impeccably clean.
"How long has it been, Sparky," Kris mumbled, droping into one
of his office's guest chairs.
"Hm... from the time I came in after Washuu arrived, fifty-one
hours, seven minutes, fifty-eight seconds mark," Sparky replied.
"Boss, she'll be done when she's done."
"I know, I know," Kris nodded. Washuu had thrown Kris out of
her Lab after twenty minutes of his hovering over her, pacing around
her work area, generally distracting her from her work. Ever since
then, no one and nothing had gone in or out of the little wooden door
which had appeared just beside Kris' desk.
"Maybe you'd like me to go in and see if Washuu's busy, boss?"
Sparky trundled over towards the doorway, his twin photoreceptors
aimed directly at Kris.
"No, no," Kris shook his head, folded his hands and slumped
down into his chair. "You know what really, really drives me crazy
about all this. The not knowing. I've learned everything there is to
know that's on paper, in witness, or even in rumor about May Azland.
There is simply no reason I can think of, barring a mole personality,
for her to attack -anyone,- much less me. But she must have had SOME
reason..."
Sparky thought it over for a long moment. "Maybe she wanted
the reward on your head?"
Kris shook his head. "Sparky, according to her record, May has
neither training nor programming for anything more than the most basic
CFMF self-defense course. But she pulled a near-perfect blindside move
on me in there."
Sparky considered this, then added, "Then how come she didn't
kill you, boss?"
Kris shrugged. "My guess is, she seriously underestimated my
ability. I went so far as to have Asrial pull the file ISI has on me-
I'm a Knight Fucking Defender and they won't let me see my own file-
and according to the information they have, I should probably be
dead." Kris smiled just a little, grimly. "I've grown quite a bit in
ninety-eight years."
"If you say so, boss," Sparky said, wishing he could shrug.
"Anyway, given that ISI has more information on me than any
other security bureau in existence- including CFMF Intel, by the way-
I got lucky. May seriously underestimated me and my ability to
recover... and I'm pretty sure she had no idea I could do this," he
added, calling a red ball of light into existence over his chest and
letting it flit around the room a couple of times before dissipating
it in a flash.
Silence fell with a thud. Time slipped slowly, painfully by,
interrupted now and then by the occasional messenger or curious
officer. A few grumbled words from the Redneck sent them away,
confused and whispering of an angry admiral plotting revenge.
The clatter of the crab-shaped chime over Washuu's Lab Door
roused Kris from his apparent fugue. Sparky turned his head to see
Washuu, looking worn and frustrated, stepped into the office.
"Kris?" the redheaded mad scientist asked softly. "I've done
all I can for her. Could you step in here, please?"
Kris stood up, walked slowly to the Lab Door. Sparky trundled
along behind, his sensors going haywire for a split second in the
darkness between the door and the brightly lit expanses of the Lab.
Off to one side, in a chair surrounded by dozens of scanners and
readout panels, sat May Azland, naked save for a dropcloth, her arms
replaced, her eyes still as dark as they had been when she said,
"Emergency protection mode."
"What happened to her, Washuu?" Kris asked, looking into
those blank, dim, pupils, hoping for some spark, some hint of life.
"She was a mole," Washuu said. "Some great intellect at
GENOM-" she spat out the name with a bitter smile, "decided to use
their most advanced AI engine for a -cosmetic personality- while
patching a primitive hunter-killer override over it. The two programs
were mutually antagonistic; the more often she switched between the
two, the more damage was done, until finally... her neural net went
into a gradual crash."
"You mean she's...." Kris didn't want to say it.
"I don't know," Washuu shrugged. "Programming AI's isn't one
of my specialties. It's hardly as simple as designing new life forms.
I've done the best I can though... I managed to save most of her
memories and a good deal of her basic knowledge database... I wasn't
able to remove the hunter-killer program, not without risking a total
neural failure, but I've managed to remove her hardwired orders and
make the two programs compatible... what's left of them...."
"What aren't you telling me, Washuu?" Kris' voice came soft,
deep, throaty with anxiety... and guilt.
"... there was a great deal lost, Kris," Washuu said. "I
couldn't reconstruct most of her personality. I saved what I
could...." Her voice trailed off as she came as close as Kris had ever
heard her come to admitting helplessness.
Kris looked the Buma- such a young face, a young body, too
young to die, Kris thought. "Can you reactivate her?" he asked.
"I should be able to," Washuu nodded. "I don't know what
she'll be when she comes to, though..." She waved a hand over empty
air, bent over the terminal that appeared before her. "Do you see the
monitor with the line marked in red crayon across the screen?" she
asked.
Kris looked up, saw the screen above May's head and to his
right. The line ran slightly higher than midway up, horizontally,
across the display. "I see it."
"That's the Spengler readout," Washuu said. "At her last
checkup, Lieutenant Azland registered .84 Spenglers. That one readout
will tell us how well I did my work..."
"What's a Spengler?" Sparky asked.
Washuu didn't bother to look at the droid. "Spenglers are
units of measurement of soulforce, named after the Earth scientist who
proved that force's existence in the 2020s," she lectured. "The unit
is based on the spiritual energy generated by an average adult Terran.
You register at .67 Spenglers, and Kris varies between 1.18 and 1.32
Spenglers depending on conditions."
"What about you?" Sparky asked.
"What about me?" Washuu tapped a few more keys on her
terminal, paying no more attention to the astromech.
Footsteps echoed from across the vast foyer of the Lab. Kris
looked up to see Gina, dressed somewhat more conservatively than
usual, in a sweatshirt and jeans, holding a large pistol in one hand.
"I found my EMP gun, Washuu," she said, trotting across the surreal
landscape as she saw Kris standing over May's body. "Oh, hello,
Redneck! Are you here to watch?"
"Gina," Washuu said, looking solemnly at her apprentice,
"please stand where you are and be quiet. Kris, please move aside so
Gina has a clear shot in case something happens..."
Kris nodded, stepping a few paces away from the displays,
keeping his eyes locked on the Spengler display.
Sparky watched, lights flashing on his chassis with anxious
speed, as Washuu typed in a quick series of commands and turned to
watch the displays flicker to life. Sparky's circuits surged with
excitement as the Spengler meter leaped to life, then grew chill as
the leap became a grudging, slow creep up the monitor. On the chair,
the dim purple eyes lit up slightly, just slightly, blinked a few
times as they came into focus. One hand rose up to pull the dropcloth
up over her breasts.
The Spengler count crept one last, agonizing bit higher, and
froze.
The white bar reached only halfway, maybe a bit more, to the
red line.
May's mouth opened slowly, closed again, then opened; words,
slow, cold, toneless, came out. "Testing. One. Two. Five. Eight.
Sixteen. Ninety. May Azland, Lieutenant, fully operational."
Kris knelt beside the chair and looked directly into May's
eyes. "May," he said quietly, "do you remember what happened?"
May nodded, once, slowly. "I was taken over by a mole program
planted in my subconscious. It blocked my memory of committing several
acts of sabotage, leading up to and including a direct attempt on your
life." No emotion, no regret, no anger, no joy, nothing. A moment
later, she added, "I should be destroyed for my actions. I was
malfunctioning. I may malfunction again."
Kris shook his head. "No," he whispered. "You couldn't help
what you did."
"I understand," May said. "Then I must request a transfer."
"A transfer?" Kris said. "Don't you want to be my aide?" He
tried to smile warmly, to show May that everything was all right
again.
"My proximity to you could only impair your performance,
Admiral," May droned. "Furthermore, it makes no sense to have someone
with my training assigned to a noncombatant position. I suggest my
abilities would best be utilized in the Freespacer Marines."
Kris nodded. "I'll... take it under advisement..." He stood up
slowly, reluctantly, looking down sadly, his eyes clouded as he said,
"May... I'm so very sorry..."
"You have no reason to apologize, Admiral," May said in the
cold, mechanical voice that stabbed Kris in the heart with every
syllable. "I am in full operational condition."
Kris nodded, turned away, whispered, "I'd like to be alone
now," and walked as quickly as he could to the Lab Door.
Sparky pivoted on his wheels, stopped when he sensed Washuu's
hand on his head. "Leave him alone, Sparky," she said. "He doesn't
like to have company when he cries."

The next day, in the corridor just outside the boardroom for
RebelTech Industries, Ltd., Kris met a face he'd wanted to avoid,
forever if possible.
Nalga Varosajic Tiure, like most of his species, was a giant bloated
slug with tiny arms, huge eyes, and a slit of a mouth nearly as wide
as his entire body. Nalga understood English, and Kris understood
Huttese, like most inhabitants of the Corellian and Rigel Sectors or
Hutt Space, but Hutt custom was never to allow inferior races (like
humans) to speak directly to a Hutt, so Nalga had an Industrial
Automaton V-series diplomat droid.
Despite his metal chassis, V1N-E seemed to exude more slime
than his master. The robot's humanoid form slumped into an arrogant,
street-wise pose, his metal-carved friendly smile bowed to appear as a
superior smirk. Even the accent added to the fake 'wiseguy' image: "Da
great an' powerful Nalga da Hutt is pleased ta make yer acquaintance,
an' expresses 'is sorrow atcher recent tragetiy."
Kris glared at Nalga, not sparing more than the briefest
glance for the droid. "Tell your master that if I had proof, I mean
the least hint of proof, that he was in any way involved with May
Azland, he would be dead right this very minute."
The Hutt barely moved as he listened to Kris' threat, then
nodded once, the bulk of his upper body moving back and forth once,
solemnly. In a deep, belching rumble, he replied in a long string of
Huttese, including some words Kris wasn't quite sure of; he hadn't
used the language in over a century, and some slang might have
changed, he reasoned.
"Da great an' powerful Nalga da Hutt wishes yas ta understan'
dat he had nuttin' ta do wit' dat particular t're't," V1N-E
translated. "'E's willin' ta admit dat he's made some minor efforts ta
inconvenience yas, but dat was strictly business. Dis... " The droid
looked at the Hutt and spat out a quick string of Huttese: <Do you
really want me to say this, Master?>
Nalga shook his head, then faced Kris directly. <I am told
that you understand the Holy Tongue, Admiral,> he said.
Kris nodded.
<Then please understand this,> Nalga said. <I do a great deal
of things. Some might be considered good by your species; most would
be considered evil. But what I do, I do strictly for business. I do
not have a personal vendetta like my employer. I do not execute those
vendettas. And I do not ever use moles,> he added with an especially
deep, long grunt to punctuate the point. <Wasting promising
subordinates is very bad for business.>
"Is that all you have to say?" Kris snapped.
<Only this more,> Nalga said. <Before I go in, I wish to
acknowledge defeat in my current efforts. I did not adequately
anticipate your return or the effect it might have. I thought the mad
one was harmless. I should have anticipated this, and I did not. I
will not pursue my effort to buy out the fleet... so long as it turns
my financers a profit.>
"How generous of you," Kris said sarcastically. "Now you
listen to me. I took it for granted that GENOM was bad news. When I
returned and read about all the changes recently, I had even more
cause to treat GENOM as the enemy.
"But now GENOM has created, and then destroyed, a person, a
living, thinking being, for the sole purpose of preventing me from
interfering with their plans. Any company that cares so little for its
own, much less for its enemies, is my enemy. Personal. Forever. To the
death. Do you understand me?"
<All too well,> Nalga shook his blubbery head slowly. <Perhaps
I should withdraw my funding from RebelTech... good luck to you,
Admiral. I hope you overcome your emotions. They will be your
undoing.>
"Da great an' powerful Nalga da Hutt has spoken," V1N-E said,
opening the boardroom doors so Nalga could slither in. Behind them,
Kris stood and glared, struggling to bring his emotions under control.
Just business, is it?
This isn't business, slimeball.
This is the beginning of a long, long war...

Ch. 15/NOW

A room in Washuu's lab
August 25, 2388

The universe seemed a little cooler, and a lot softer, than
she remembered last. Smelled cleaner, too. She was in a bed of some
sort... didn't feel like her bunk, it was too soft. And the
surrounding space felt too large to be the Centurion's crew quarters.
Time for visual input.
No, Rianna confirmed as her eyes opened and took in the large
room around her. This was definitely not the Centurion. In fact it
looked like one of the rooms from the Lab. The carefully cleaned white
cabinets, the bright light filtering in from the overhead skylight,
the smell of carefully filtered and ionized air- any one of these
was totally alien to the Mayl- contaminated world Ri had
spent the last several weeks in, but as a whole the room seemed to
scream MAD SCIENTIST AT WORK.
Either that, Rianna smirked, or HELP, I'M BEING HELD CAPTIVE
IN A SHOPPING MALL.
Rianna lay still in the soft bed, trying to piece together
what had happened since the trance. She remembered finding Red's mind,
and the series of images they had exchanged. She'd been flattered by
the image she's received of herself from Red; the warrior princess,
and also a simple privateer, each image part of the other. And then,
when she'd told him to come to Wilderness... Rianna repressed a shiver
at the glimpse of guilt, self-pity and despair which had leaked
through the link in response. Whatever had happened, Red felt
personally responsible.
The final image she had received had been even more chaotic...
hope, light, determination...
Redemption.
*I come.*
Rianna struggled to push memory forward beyond that point.
When the link collapsed, the strain had hit hard; she remembered
trying to tell Mayl that Red was on his way, but she had no way of
knowing if Mayl had heard; she didn't remember sensing Mayl at all,
much less any response from her.
Things got decidedly surreal at that point, images blurring
through her mind in a stream of subconscious thought. A few had been
dreams, without a doubt; a couple of them had been about to become
X-rated when the scene had subtly shifted to something else. So I
_did_ pass out, she thought, and someone brought me here. She sat up
slowly, working a knot out of the muscles in her neck. What had
happened?
The background hum of some heavy machinery somewhere caught
Rianna's attention, and something inside her seemed to be attracted to
the sound. Reaching out to the Force, she allowed her instincts to
guide her, and her senses told her an answer was through the door from
which the sound was coming. Getting to her feet, and allowing herself
one good stretch, popping several vertebrae back into alignment, she
walked through.
The room outside looked more like a park than a building:
overhead, a series of tanks and conduits stretched from beyond the
room on all sides, obscuring the distant ceiling overhead. Here and
there, waterfalls from the overhead tanks burbled into small canals in
the ground, watering the small trees arranged in a parklike fashion
around several walkways. Near the center of the immense space, a small
wooden door stood by itself, and beside it a small overstuffed cushion
floated in midair. The air thrummed with the background noise of
enormous engines running in the distance.
It was the Lab, all right.
Again, Rianna stretched out into the Force, searching for some
clue as to what had happened. Her senses were drawn to the sound of
crackling static electricity, not far away... and to the noticeable
disturbance in the Force she felt there. Trusting to her instincts,
she began walking towards the disturbance, trusting more to her Sith
training than to any outward sense.
Rianna found herself facing Washuu's favorite examination bed,
in a rear corner of the immense front room surrounded by miscellaneous
diagnostic equipment, scanners, and supply lockers and cabinets.
Today, however, the arrangement was a little different; this time the
scientist lay on the bed- or what there was of her. The morbid form,
naked except for a sheet pulled up to the waist, did not look much
better- any better- than when Rianna had found her, still gray and
shriveled up like a frostbitten leaf. An intravenous needle and feeder
tube extended from Washuu's left arm, leading up to a half-full bottle
of clear fluid hanging from a metal stand. For one sick moment Rianna
was reminded of a cadaver, sitting on a table awaiting autopsy; she
threw that thought away almost as soon as she'd thought it. Rianna
wondered again how long she'd been unconscious.
The man sitting beside the bed, occasionally flinching as a
tendril of electricity flickered from the static electricity field to
touch him, paid no mind to Rianna. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands
were shaking slightly, and every now and again the dull red glow
surrounding him flared into either a large red or brilliant white
aura, then died back down. A gray uniform tunic lay draped over the
back of his chair, his undershirt matted with sweat and wrinkled from
long wear.
In short, Kris was a wreck.
As Rianna took a step closer, her eyes fell on a slightly
mangled notepad near the table. Picking it up, she arched an
eyebrow at the panicked scrawling she saw:

-----------------------------------------------------

Regeneration tank
useless
shock potential high

Jyurai
NO!
Shock GUARANTEED
TOO RISKY!!

Surgery
and do what?

restore energy encourage regeneration
Van de Graaff field?

Divine intervention

...yarite, HOW??

nutrient solution 1% saline
3%dextrose
0.5% protein mix

self-warming blanket _ retain heat energy_

static field unit--

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The notes stopped at that point because the paper below had
been ripped off. Rianna couldn't help noticing how the writing style
meshed almost perfectly with the rollercoaster of emotions she was
picking up from Redneck.
As she continued to watch, Kris began muttering in a low,
raspy voice, sentence fragments with no apparent meaning...:
"...didn't mean to ... such an idiot... you'll be alright, I'll see to
it... please, please..."
Good goddess, Rianna thought. How long has he been at this?
One thing was for sure: she needed to get his attention. "Red?"
Slowly, Kris looked upwards, saw the dark-haired woman
standing beside him, and croaked, "Hello, Ri'. Sleep well?" A weak
smile twisted his face, never touching his eyes.
"How long?" she asked without preamble.
Kris sat back in the chair, running his hand through his hair,
and sighed. "Um... I think today is Thursday... I got to Wilderness
about a half-hour after... well, Washuu's been in treatment for about
thirty-six hours. No response yet." Sighing again, he slumped forward
and said, "Not a fucking thing."
Rianna looked over at Washuu's small, fragile form. No
improvement in 36 hours... damn. "So... what all have you done for
her?"
Kris laughed two nervous, near-hysterical barks, then slumped
even further over and said, "Not much. I'm paramedic trained- I'm not
a doctor. I can't do anything radical without the risk of shocking her
into total collapse. I've been giving her a steady IV drip of
nutrients, and I've set up this static field--" He waved a hand
through the air over Washuu's bed, sending mild sparks along his arm.
"...in the hopes she'll absorb some of it. Either she'll accept the
new energy sources and regenerate... or it's too late..." Kris sobbed
loudly, sniffed, and choked out, "She's got to regenerate on her own."
Rianna took all this in. She found herself grappling with a
brief wave of helplessness, caused in part by her own knowledge that
all her Force skills were useless here, but also because of what she
was sensing from Kris, who was most decidedly _not_ Force-blind. He
was running an emotional sine wave between hopeful and maniacally
grief-stricken, so fast Rianna felt she would need some kind of
oscilloscope to see it clearly.
Perhaps there was something she could do, after all. "So..."
she began, weighing her words very carefully. "There's nothing else
that can be done, correct?"
"Well..." Kris sighed, "Little Joe's keeping the fleet
running. Gina's outside the lab door, screening visitors. Zathras is
around somewhere, he brings me coffee and a sandwich every so often--"
(Rianna wondered to herself, Red _hates_ coffee.) "... but someone
has to be here to watch... so here I am." He chuckled, this time
wryly. "Seems that's all I'm good for these days."
Rianna arched an eyebrow. "Red... how long has it been since
you slept last?"
Kris leaned back again and stared at the ceiling, silently
mouthing words; Rianna felt a wave of confusion from him as he
struggled to concentrate. Finally, he said, "Saturday night. When I
got drunk with Rayna... um, General Tangril."
"*Saturday*?" Rianna replied, shocked. "We found Washuu on
Tuesday, and today's Thursday... and you are still *sitting here*,
Red?" More and more she didn't like the disturbance she felt.
"Before..." Kris gasped, smothering a wave of mixed hope and
despair, and continued, "Before you found Washuu, I couldn't sleep
from the memories, the guilt... and now..." He looked up at her,
hitting her with every ounce of love, pain, despair, guilt, and hope
in his soul, "I _have_ to be here for her. I HAVE to." Looking back
to Washuu, he murmured, "I never knew just how much a part of me she
was. She's my balance, Ri, my other half..." Again his mouth moved
voicelessly, and a complex wave of emotions flickered past too quickly
for Rianna to sift. "I have to be here," he said again, and fell
silent.
"Red..." Rianna sighed quietly. "Right now, where you have to
be -- no, where you _need_ to be -- is in bed. You just told me
you've done everything you can for her. And I understand how much you
want to be here. But right now, in your condition? I don't care if
Washuu _is_ Force-blind. Your emotional and mental state is
fluctuating so badly that you just might be doing more harm than good
by staying here now. You might do something wrong. Did you think of
that?"
For a long moment, Kris sat quiet; apparently, he hadn't
thought about it, but he was thinking about it now. Then, perceptibly,
his resolve strengthened. The red aura which had flickered and flared
around him ceased, and in a calm and very carefully controlled voice,
he answered, "No. No, I don't think it is harming her. If she is
getting anything from me, it's my love for her, my worry for her, and
the knowledge that I am _HERE_ waiting for her..." The control
flickered, then firmed, and he finished, "I have to be here, Rianna.
No matter what."
"Kristan, I admire your dedication," Rianna answered, her
voice becoming equally calm. "And I don't dispute the power of your
love for her. But I still believe you would do her a greater service
by getting some sleep now. There's nothing more to be done. And no
one else will come in here--"
At the mention of someone invading the lab, Kris' aura
returned, red and flaming, for a brief moment; then it vanished, and
in a low and unusually dark voice, Kris growled, "DAMN STRAIGHT
nobody's comin' in here."
Rianna almost took a step back. She did not like what she had
just felt, and her foresight warned of several possible troubles if
something wasn't done and soon. "All right, Red," Rianna said, the
Force welling up in her throat. She didn't want to do this to him --
she knew how he hated it -- but there were no options left to her.
"That will be quite enough. >>You need to sleep now.<<"
At the first hint of the Voice, Kris sat up straight, tensing,
and suddenly, his emotions -vanished- from Rianna's perception. For a
long second, he stared directly into Rianna's eyes, calm and
collected; Jedi battle calm.
Then, the moment passed, Kris' control flickered, and he
yawned, loudly and widely.
"*You need to sleep NOW*," Rianna repeated, taking full
advantage of the opening, her eyes narrowing to slits.
Kris struggled to suppress another yawn, then released it, and
then, he murmured: "I... need... to stay... to sleep..." Then, slowly
but fluidly, he leaned forward in the chair, electricity dancing
around him as he fell, and he lay his head and shoulders onto the bed
beside Washuu's body. After a moment, his arms curled up beneath his
head; his breathing deepened, and Rianna felt the last remnant
of his will fade into a sound, dreamless sleep.
Rianna let out a long sigh and relaxed. With that horrendous
emotional rollercoaster finally shut down, the tension in the room
faded. Rianna took a few steps closer, and silently regarded the
still form of Washuu for a few long moments. "Washuu," she spoke
quietly at length. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I think he's
finally made his choice." Then she turned to the sleeping Redneck and
regarded him in much the same way, thinking about what she had felt
from him, about the way the power had resonated...
Sooner or later, Kristan, Rianna thought. You are going to
know the power of the Dark Side. And I hope to the heavens you will
be prepared when that happens.
That said, she scanned her surroundings for a chair, so that
she could begin her own vigil over Washuu. Yawning slightly, she
thought to herself, I hope I don't keel over myself before this is
over...