[JP] Marshall & Reynolds - The Only Way is Up (Part I)
Quinn Reynolds
((Maintenance Area, Cardassian Prison))
The enormous maintenance doors ground shut behind them, the seal booming through the rust and metal. Quinn stared at them for a moment, the barrier between the imprisoned and the imprisoners, and then turned to the woman beside her. The pair of them were the last through the doors, making sure everyone else was inside before they sealed themselves off from the rest of the jail.
Reynolds: Are you all right?
Marshall: I’m fine, I’m fine.
The blonde nodded, trying to convince more than reassure. Her lungs ached, the underside of her ribs where the bones and muscle met, where every breath felt like her diaphragm wanted to escape in a vomitous upwards motion. Hands on her hips, Jo paced back and forth in the small space afforded to them, getting a handle on a racing heart.
Quinn turned to look at the rest of the Maquis, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. Sweat and grime smeared across already mucky skin as she did a quick headcount. Some of them looked worse for wear, more battered and tired than they’d left, some with splashes of blood across their clothes and skin, which she hoped wasn’t theirs. But it was everyone.
Plus one Cardassian, who, if he was feeling awkward, didn’t show it. Morad stood there like a patient grandfather. Stood apart from everyone else and watching with a mild, paternal expression, hands where everyone could see them, making no sudden movements.
Reynolds: Okay. ::She took a deep breath and looked around.:: So we’re in uncharted territory here. Prisoners don’t get past those doors.
Marshall: It doesn’t look like anything gets past those doors.
A green light glowed from somewhere above them, dim and barely illuminating anything, casting an eerie glow. Enough to see swirls of dust in the surrounding air, kicked up by the sudden opening of doors and arrival of people. Jo hunkered down on the floor and touched the corrugated metal grating, bringing her hand away to see a sticky sludge of grease and settled grime.
Reynolds: Yeah, I— ::She frowned.:: I’d have thought there would be someone back here.
The absent guards, maintenance workers, hells, even some administration staff... But unless they had fled from the doors opening, there was no sign of anyone. No retreating footsteps, no tracks in the dust, no sign of life or habitation, save for the light hanging above them. Standing up, Jo peered at it through already tired eyes, squinting to get a clearer view.
Marshall: Does that look like an observation deck to you?
Quinn crossed her arms over her chest, a twitch at the corner of one eye as her arm banged across the fresh incision across her ribs. She tore her gaze away from the rest of their crew, the quiet exchanges and the significant looks passing between them, and looked in the same direction as the blonde. Through the gloom, she caught sight of the same thing. What little light there was catching the edges and corners, creating ghostly reflections in transparent aluminium.
Reynolds: Can you see a way up there?
Marshall: Not from here. If this was a holding area, they might not risk having it accessible from this floor.
Like everything else, it looked like old technology — an observation deck supported on heavy metal struts driving deep into the metal. The green light blinkered on and off, casting the glow onto the surrounding walls. Stretching across a high ceiling. Wherever they were, it was cavernous, like a yawning pit cleaved to the ground. More harsh terrain to get through. But at least they were nearer the outside than before.
Jo glanced at Quinn as she reached out, poking her in the side where the shiv had nearly embedded. It earned her a scowl and a grunt from the hybrid—a moment of channelling Brunsig, wherever he was—followed by an exhaled sigh as Quinn let the brief flare go.
Marshall: There’ll be an entrance somewhere, maybe even a maintenance shaft, or access lift.
Reynolds: Bet you that bottle of Bajoran brandy you’ve got hidden I’ll find it first.
Despite the situation, Jo’s eyebrow crested, and she chuckled.
Marshall: You’re on.
((A Short While Later...))
The trap door of the observation deck dropped open with a clang, and Quinn hauled herself up and through the entrance. Rosy-cheeked with the exertion, she forced herself up onto jellied legs and leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath without breathing too much—easier said than done.
Marshall: Fine... but that’s the last time… I tell you… about anything ever… Should’ve known better than to trust a damn spy… with the sacred location of one’s booze.
Came the grumbling response from the former athlete following behind; just as knackered in the green glowing light flashing brightly. Dust particulates spiralled in the air, swirling around them and drifting back to settle on the floor. If the guards had used it as an observation post once upon a time, they hadn’t for some time. Jo took the second to breathe.
Marshall: Makes you wonder how far down they had to dig for this place.
Reynolds: Makes you wonder why. ::She leaned forward, hands on her thighs. The grin Jo’s complaints had brought out faded, and she looked around the observation post:: Maybe it was something else, once upon a time.
Marshall: Probably a mine. ::Inhaling through her nose did nothing to quiet the swell of memory.:: They were all bloody mines.
Approaching the expansive windows, Jo glanced out of them down into the open space below, oblivious to the small frown of sympathy touching Quinn’s brow. She could barely make out their team, only by the brief flashes of emerald highlighting them briefly. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip as she thought about what they needed to do next. Like an orchestra, they all needed to play their part.
Marshall: This place has to have a way of communicating with the outside.
Quinn pushed off the wall, moving to stand alongside the blonde. But where Jo’s gaze was out of the window, hers dropped to the inactive consoles. Blank and dark, the featureless screens covered in a furry layer of dust, but there was a subtle and quiet hum of power underneath. Sweeping away the dust with the side of her hand, she looked up at the blonde.
Reynolds: I doubt we’ll be able to send a message from here, but we might be able to find out from where we could. Give me a hand?
Marshall: Just the one?
Despite the dry delivery of the joke, her friend crouched down in front of the console and prised off the front part of the panel. Behind, the snaking circuitry reminded Jo of the same throughout the rest of the prison, and easy to manipulate. How it still had power, she didn’t know, and wasn’t about to ask.
Marshall: Now I see; risk my fingers, not yours.
A small grin found its way onto the hybrid’s lips as she leaned forward, slipping her shiv into the crack between casing and console, levering the top open to give them more access to the guts of the console underneath.
Reynolds: I just can’t bear the thought of ruining my manicure.
Marshall: Colour me surprised. ::Her gaze drew to the flashing green light as she chewed on the inside of her cheek.:: Imagine the patience it took to make this place. They really wanted everyone here gone and forgotten about.
Reynolds: I can’t figure out whether that makes us lucky or unlucky.
Marshall: You wouldn’t want to be down here with guards.
The last word drew out like a reptile would say it, lingering lightly on the voiceless alveolar sibilant. No sooner had she spoken, the weighted expression fell from her face and she crouched beside Quinn, slotting the iron pipe into the widened gap between panel and console frame. Glancing at her friend, the constellation of stars across Quinn’s nose reminded her of Erin, and wondered where she was, undoubtedly missing the chance to dive into the engineering of a Cardassian facility.
Marshall: How’s your neck?
Reynolds: Nothing a close encounter with a dermal regenerator won’t fix. ::She glanced down at Jo.:: I’m fine. Are you sure you are?
TBC
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Quinn “Shades” Reynolds
Chief Engineer
Skarbek
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&
Jo “Blondie” Marshall
Cell Second
Skarbek
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