Fic: Forsaking a Hollow Life, 11/? (Firefly/Highlander)
Begins here.
Previous part here.
Inara jerked awake, grabbing for the hand that held her mouth as her heart rushed blood to her brain, adrenaline surging in an effort to save her.
"Easy," Mal hissed in her ear. "Zoe's here. Stay quiet and ready."
She nodded against the pressure of his hand, and he eased away, brushing his fingers over her lips as he moved back. Inara licked her lips, licking away the taste of salt and fear. The room was pitch black, as it had been every other night they had been locked in, another Alliance tactic to keep them cowed. The soft rustling sounds of the crew awakening came from either side of her. She sat up and straightened her skirt so it didn't bind around her, then tucked her back against the nearby wall, pulling her knees in.
Her vision suddenly sparkled with rainbow colors. She blinked, wondering if perhaps her senses were overcompensating for the lack of stimulation. The sparks came again, however, slowly moving in a circular arc, high up on the far wall, not far from where the water closet would be. She closed her eyes to protect them once she realized the light came from a blow torch.
She heard a soft hiss and a muffled thunk, and then a hand grasped her shoulder, urging her forward. Inara stood, uncertain of her path but prodded by the touch again and again. There was a soft glow near the wall, not even enough light to make out any details, but it gave her a goal. She stopped next to the wall, seeing the shepherd and Kaylee already there. The hands came back, pushing her closer to the wall, and she saw a hand reaching down to her from a large black hole further up. Inara reached up, and the hands behind her boosted her up, pushing on her bottom as the strong hand above her pulled.
She wound up in a tight space, pressed against a large, sweaty male body. Jayne, undoubtably. The glow was brighter now, enough that she could tell it was one of those green light sticks. Before she could figure anything else out, Jayne pushed on her shoulder none too gently, guiding her to the empty space beyond him. Inara took the hint, managing to ignore the brief pat on her behind, and crawled. She almost shrieked when her hand met empty air, but another hand grabbed on, drawing her downwards. She took a calming breath, pulled her feet forwards, and dropped over the edge.
"Oooph," Zoe grunted as Inara landed practically on top of her. "Got to work on those landings," she whispered, helping Inara to her feet.
Inara thought they were in a small closet, or perhaps access space for the plumbing. The glow stick was on the floor at Zoe's feet.
"Go on past me, wait next to Wash," Zoe whispered, releasing her hand.
She followed a very thin corridor, an access tunnel she guessed, thick with the smell of dust and grease. Wash stood at the end, his pale face a lighter smudge in the darkness. She squeezed his arm, and he grinned back at her--the first time she had seen him smile since they were captured.
A hand touched her back, and Inara turned to see Kaylee smiling at her, relieved mischief sparking in her eyes. Inara threaded her hand with Kaylee's, then moved forward, giving those behind her more room.
They waited in silence a few more minutes. The glow stick bobbed closer, soon revealing Zoe squeezing through next to their line. She nodded to Inara, then whispered something to Wash as she pressed into him. Once Zoe was by, Wash grabbed Inara's hand, linking them into a human chain.
A few seconds later they were moving, a fast-paced stumble through the dark, narrow corridors that seemed to go on forever. She fought to keep her feet under her, her slippers slick on the decking, snagging every now and then on rough edges. The smell of machine lubricant and metallic dust pressed in all around them, getting deep in her throat and making her long for something to wash away the taste.
Inara's arms ached, her fingers going numb as she held on tightly to Wash and Kaylee. She was uncertain how long they kept going, but she thought maybe twenty minutes had passed when she slammed into Wash, who was stopped in front of her. Kaylee stumbled into her from behind, and they pressed together for several seconds, trying to sort themselves out in the dark.
Wash fumbled for her hand again, pressing something into it. Inara ghosted her fingertips over the surface, letting touch tell her what her eyes could not. It was a breathing mask, a standard configuration as far as she could tell. She slid it onto her face, and then reached forward again to take another from Wash. She passed it back to Kaylee, and they continued the handoff process until four more masks had passed through her hands.
Stale air whistled through her mouth, the sound of it echoing and reverberating in her ears. A thud sounded ahead of them, followed by a bright light and the grind of metal rolling on metal. A few soft thuds, and then they were moving forward again, Wash tugging fast on her hand.
Inara had to turn sideways to step through the narrow opening--Jayne was going to have a time of getting through--and emerged in one of the main thoroughfares of the station. She blinked, her eyes watering from the light, even though it was dimmed to night settings. Wash pulled on her hand, getting her moving again. She barely held back a gasp when her foot brushed against the fingers of an Alliance soldier, his body unmoving on the deck. Inara desperately hoped he was only unconscious.
Then they were crowding into Serenity's airlock, waiting for it to run its cycle. As soon as the inner door opened, Zoe pulled off her mask and hit the intercom.
"Go," she said urgently. She turned back to them. "Kaylee, we're gonna need you in the engine room. Fast."
"Going," Kaylee shouted, already sprinting towards the rear stairs.
Inara lifted her mask, wondering how they were going to break free from the station. She didn't have any strings to pull to get them out of a lockdown this time.
The ship shuddered beneath them. The light over the airlock flashed red, and Inara could see a gap opening between them and the station.
"Zoe, who the hell is flying my ship?" Mal asked, voice harsh and spiky with concern. "Wash, are you flying my ship?"
"Not me, Mal," Wash answered, but Mal raced out without paying any attention to him. Zoe and Wash took off behind him, and Inara followed out of concern and curiosity.
"Who the hell are you?" Mal thundered just as Inara made it to the bridge. She pressed forward, peering around Wash to see the man flying Serenity. He had dark, glossy hair caught back in a pony tail, and he turned to grin at Mal, revealing a handsome face.
"Duncan MacLeod. Of the Clan MacLeod, if you really want to know. I'd shake your hand, but I'm a little busy at the moment."
Inara laughed; Mal looked over at her, then back to MacLeod, clearly flummoxed. Zoe put a hand on his shoulder.
"Sir, he's a friend of Pierson's. We couldn't have gotten you out without him."
Wash stepped up next to MacLeod, sliding into the copilot's seat. "Was that the Dawson maneuver?"
MacLeod nodded. "A friend of mine came up with it," he said with a sly smile. "The secret is to run a charge through the magnetic locks. Overloads them for about two seconds."
Wash whistled. "That's not a big window to work with."
"That's all sorts of interesting," Mal cut in, "but would someone tell me what in the gorram hell is going on? Where's Pierson?"
"He's looking after River," Zoe said.
"She's safe?" Simon asked, pushing past Book. Inara hadn't even realized he'd come up to the bridge with them. "Where is she?"
MacLeod turned enough that he could meet Simon's eyes. "My farm. Estrella Bonita. We'll head there as soon as I'm sure we're clear of Alliance."
That made Mal's mouth pull tight. "Zoe, could I speak to you?"
They shuffled over to the hatchway, huddling together for a whispered conversation that only spiked into audibility every now and then. Inara moved up next to their guest pilot, intending to read what she could of him. She brushed a hand over the glass above her, the tension in her shoulders easing as she realized they truly had a chance at safety.
"How are you doing?" MacLeod asked softly.
Inara looked back down at him, surprised at the warm concern in his eyes. "I'm fine, thank you. And thank you for your assistance. I don't think anyone has told you that yet."
MacLeod smiled, a wry twist to his lips that spoke of more things that Inara could discern. "I'm just glad I could help," he told her, and it sounded completely sincere.
"How is Ben?" she ventured quietly, sneaking a glance back at Mal. He was still arguing with Zoe, but his eyes met hers for a few angry seconds. She held the look, her confidence restored now that she knew her instincts hadn't been wrong.
Mal was the one to look away.
"He's Ben," MacLeod said, and that too was loaded with meaning. But before she could probe for more, Simon was asking about River once again, and Mal was stepping away from Zoe. Inara drifted back, knowing that now was not the time to settle her curiosity.
Later, she would find out more about these mysterious men. She promised herself that.
*****
Methos rolled over in bed for what must have been the thirtieth time. For some reason he couldn’t get comfortable, even though the bed was warm and silky soft just like he liked it, and smelled of Duncan. The room was dark even at midday, the windows of the room guarded by heavy drapes that he liked to think that Duncan had installed with himself in mind. He had nearly every comfort he could wish for, yet his mind wouldn't let him rest.
With an exasperated groan, he tossed the covers aside.
He padded barefoot down to the kitchen. River was already there, gnawing on a hunk of the leftover roast. She paid him no mind as he set the kettle on the stove. Methos leaned against the counter as he absentmindedly watched her. One foot was tucked up on the chair, the other tapping against the rungs below, the slow rhythm never stilling while she sucked the grease off her thumb like a simpleton.
Something clicked inside. Methos' earlier restlessness faded away, even as he cursed his own folly.
"River. Tell me everything you know about Project Cobalt."
Her head snapped up, eyes wide and hopeful. "You’re going to--"
"Just tell me what you know," he said firmly.
River looked down at her plate. She began shredding her meat into narrow strands. "Three floors in the main building of the complex. Dormitories top floor, laboratory and training second level. Office staff and security ground floor. Don’t know where they are."
"Don’t know where who are, River?"
"Two by two, hands of blue," she chanted in a thready voice.
"River!"
She jumped at his harsh tone, looking up at him warily.
"I am not going to take you back in there if you lose it every time you think about the bad guys."
River nodded slowly.
"Good. Keep it together for me. I promise, when this is done you can curl up into a little ball for as long as you like."
She straightened in her chair, wiping at her dry cheeks and greasy chin with her sleeve.
"Now tell me, who are you afraid of?"
"First generation. They test us, they hurt us, they hunt me. You beg and beg and beg for it to stop, but they just say to do it better, lips like strings on robot bodies. Always come in twos, always with blue gloves."
Methos narrowed his eyes. "Why the gloves?"
"Don’t know. Not as good as we are, always need to touch things to know for certain. But never without the gloves. Still they know, if someone isn’t like them, like us. That’s why no one can get in for long, not without them finding out."
Methos thought about what she had said, sifting through the partial sentences to gather her meaning. Apparently the government had created a group with specialized abilities, possibly as soldiers, and then tried to improve upon them. River and whomever else they had lured in with false promises had been part of the second generation. He sighed; getting into a secure base filled with geniuses with extrasensory abilities would be hard, if not impossible. Getting out again would be even harder.
"I suppose you have a plan," he said.
"Go straight in the front door," she agreed without any hint of mockery.
He waited for the shoe to drop.
"You’ll be dead."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sound pretty confident about this, considering I won’t even be there to help you at first."
She smiled. "Worked before."
Methos smiled back, impressed by her audacity. He retrieved his handheld from the living room, and they began to plan in earnest.
Previous part here.
Inara jerked awake, grabbing for the hand that held her mouth as her heart rushed blood to her brain, adrenaline surging in an effort to save her.
"Easy," Mal hissed in her ear. "Zoe's here. Stay quiet and ready."
She nodded against the pressure of his hand, and he eased away, brushing his fingers over her lips as he moved back. Inara licked her lips, licking away the taste of salt and fear. The room was pitch black, as it had been every other night they had been locked in, another Alliance tactic to keep them cowed. The soft rustling sounds of the crew awakening came from either side of her. She sat up and straightened her skirt so it didn't bind around her, then tucked her back against the nearby wall, pulling her knees in.
Her vision suddenly sparkled with rainbow colors. She blinked, wondering if perhaps her senses were overcompensating for the lack of stimulation. The sparks came again, however, slowly moving in a circular arc, high up on the far wall, not far from where the water closet would be. She closed her eyes to protect them once she realized the light came from a blow torch.
She heard a soft hiss and a muffled thunk, and then a hand grasped her shoulder, urging her forward. Inara stood, uncertain of her path but prodded by the touch again and again. There was a soft glow near the wall, not even enough light to make out any details, but it gave her a goal. She stopped next to the wall, seeing the shepherd and Kaylee already there. The hands came back, pushing her closer to the wall, and she saw a hand reaching down to her from a large black hole further up. Inara reached up, and the hands behind her boosted her up, pushing on her bottom as the strong hand above her pulled.
She wound up in a tight space, pressed against a large, sweaty male body. Jayne, undoubtably. The glow was brighter now, enough that she could tell it was one of those green light sticks. Before she could figure anything else out, Jayne pushed on her shoulder none too gently, guiding her to the empty space beyond him. Inara took the hint, managing to ignore the brief pat on her behind, and crawled. She almost shrieked when her hand met empty air, but another hand grabbed on, drawing her downwards. She took a calming breath, pulled her feet forwards, and dropped over the edge.
"Oooph," Zoe grunted as Inara landed practically on top of her. "Got to work on those landings," she whispered, helping Inara to her feet.
Inara thought they were in a small closet, or perhaps access space for the plumbing. The glow stick was on the floor at Zoe's feet.
"Go on past me, wait next to Wash," Zoe whispered, releasing her hand.
She followed a very thin corridor, an access tunnel she guessed, thick with the smell of dust and grease. Wash stood at the end, his pale face a lighter smudge in the darkness. She squeezed his arm, and he grinned back at her--the first time she had seen him smile since they were captured.
A hand touched her back, and Inara turned to see Kaylee smiling at her, relieved mischief sparking in her eyes. Inara threaded her hand with Kaylee's, then moved forward, giving those behind her more room.
They waited in silence a few more minutes. The glow stick bobbed closer, soon revealing Zoe squeezing through next to their line. She nodded to Inara, then whispered something to Wash as she pressed into him. Once Zoe was by, Wash grabbed Inara's hand, linking them into a human chain.
A few seconds later they were moving, a fast-paced stumble through the dark, narrow corridors that seemed to go on forever. She fought to keep her feet under her, her slippers slick on the decking, snagging every now and then on rough edges. The smell of machine lubricant and metallic dust pressed in all around them, getting deep in her throat and making her long for something to wash away the taste.
Inara's arms ached, her fingers going numb as she held on tightly to Wash and Kaylee. She was uncertain how long they kept going, but she thought maybe twenty minutes had passed when she slammed into Wash, who was stopped in front of her. Kaylee stumbled into her from behind, and they pressed together for several seconds, trying to sort themselves out in the dark.
Wash fumbled for her hand again, pressing something into it. Inara ghosted her fingertips over the surface, letting touch tell her what her eyes could not. It was a breathing mask, a standard configuration as far as she could tell. She slid it onto her face, and then reached forward again to take another from Wash. She passed it back to Kaylee, and they continued the handoff process until four more masks had passed through her hands.
Stale air whistled through her mouth, the sound of it echoing and reverberating in her ears. A thud sounded ahead of them, followed by a bright light and the grind of metal rolling on metal. A few soft thuds, and then they were moving forward again, Wash tugging fast on her hand.
Inara had to turn sideways to step through the narrow opening--Jayne was going to have a time of getting through--and emerged in one of the main thoroughfares of the station. She blinked, her eyes watering from the light, even though it was dimmed to night settings. Wash pulled on her hand, getting her moving again. She barely held back a gasp when her foot brushed against the fingers of an Alliance soldier, his body unmoving on the deck. Inara desperately hoped he was only unconscious.
Then they were crowding into Serenity's airlock, waiting for it to run its cycle. As soon as the inner door opened, Zoe pulled off her mask and hit the intercom.
"Go," she said urgently. She turned back to them. "Kaylee, we're gonna need you in the engine room. Fast."
"Going," Kaylee shouted, already sprinting towards the rear stairs.
Inara lifted her mask, wondering how they were going to break free from the station. She didn't have any strings to pull to get them out of a lockdown this time.
The ship shuddered beneath them. The light over the airlock flashed red, and Inara could see a gap opening between them and the station.
"Zoe, who the hell is flying my ship?" Mal asked, voice harsh and spiky with concern. "Wash, are you flying my ship?"
"Not me, Mal," Wash answered, but Mal raced out without paying any attention to him. Zoe and Wash took off behind him, and Inara followed out of concern and curiosity.
"Who the hell are you?" Mal thundered just as Inara made it to the bridge. She pressed forward, peering around Wash to see the man flying Serenity. He had dark, glossy hair caught back in a pony tail, and he turned to grin at Mal, revealing a handsome face.
"Duncan MacLeod. Of the Clan MacLeod, if you really want to know. I'd shake your hand, but I'm a little busy at the moment."
Inara laughed; Mal looked over at her, then back to MacLeod, clearly flummoxed. Zoe put a hand on his shoulder.
"Sir, he's a friend of Pierson's. We couldn't have gotten you out without him."
Wash stepped up next to MacLeod, sliding into the copilot's seat. "Was that the Dawson maneuver?"
MacLeod nodded. "A friend of mine came up with it," he said with a sly smile. "The secret is to run a charge through the magnetic locks. Overloads them for about two seconds."
Wash whistled. "That's not a big window to work with."
"That's all sorts of interesting," Mal cut in, "but would someone tell me what in the gorram hell is going on? Where's Pierson?"
"He's looking after River," Zoe said.
"She's safe?" Simon asked, pushing past Book. Inara hadn't even realized he'd come up to the bridge with them. "Where is she?"
MacLeod turned enough that he could meet Simon's eyes. "My farm. Estrella Bonita. We'll head there as soon as I'm sure we're clear of Alliance."
That made Mal's mouth pull tight. "Zoe, could I speak to you?"
They shuffled over to the hatchway, huddling together for a whispered conversation that only spiked into audibility every now and then. Inara moved up next to their guest pilot, intending to read what she could of him. She brushed a hand over the glass above her, the tension in her shoulders easing as she realized they truly had a chance at safety.
"How are you doing?" MacLeod asked softly.
Inara looked back down at him, surprised at the warm concern in his eyes. "I'm fine, thank you. And thank you for your assistance. I don't think anyone has told you that yet."
MacLeod smiled, a wry twist to his lips that spoke of more things that Inara could discern. "I'm just glad I could help," he told her, and it sounded completely sincere.
"How is Ben?" she ventured quietly, sneaking a glance back at Mal. He was still arguing with Zoe, but his eyes met hers for a few angry seconds. She held the look, her confidence restored now that she knew her instincts hadn't been wrong.
Mal was the one to look away.
"He's Ben," MacLeod said, and that too was loaded with meaning. But before she could probe for more, Simon was asking about River once again, and Mal was stepping away from Zoe. Inara drifted back, knowing that now was not the time to settle her curiosity.
Later, she would find out more about these mysterious men. She promised herself that.
*****
Methos rolled over in bed for what must have been the thirtieth time. For some reason he couldn’t get comfortable, even though the bed was warm and silky soft just like he liked it, and smelled of Duncan. The room was dark even at midday, the windows of the room guarded by heavy drapes that he liked to think that Duncan had installed with himself in mind. He had nearly every comfort he could wish for, yet his mind wouldn't let him rest.
With an exasperated groan, he tossed the covers aside.
He padded barefoot down to the kitchen. River was already there, gnawing on a hunk of the leftover roast. She paid him no mind as he set the kettle on the stove. Methos leaned against the counter as he absentmindedly watched her. One foot was tucked up on the chair, the other tapping against the rungs below, the slow rhythm never stilling while she sucked the grease off her thumb like a simpleton.
Something clicked inside. Methos' earlier restlessness faded away, even as he cursed his own folly.
"River. Tell me everything you know about Project Cobalt."
Her head snapped up, eyes wide and hopeful. "You’re going to--"
"Just tell me what you know," he said firmly.
River looked down at her plate. She began shredding her meat into narrow strands. "Three floors in the main building of the complex. Dormitories top floor, laboratory and training second level. Office staff and security ground floor. Don’t know where they are."
"Don’t know where who are, River?"
"Two by two, hands of blue," she chanted in a thready voice.
"River!"
She jumped at his harsh tone, looking up at him warily.
"I am not going to take you back in there if you lose it every time you think about the bad guys."
River nodded slowly.
"Good. Keep it together for me. I promise, when this is done you can curl up into a little ball for as long as you like."
She straightened in her chair, wiping at her dry cheeks and greasy chin with her sleeve.
"Now tell me, who are you afraid of?"
"First generation. They test us, they hurt us, they hunt me. You beg and beg and beg for it to stop, but they just say to do it better, lips like strings on robot bodies. Always come in twos, always with blue gloves."
Methos narrowed his eyes. "Why the gloves?"
"Don’t know. Not as good as we are, always need to touch things to know for certain. But never without the gloves. Still they know, if someone isn’t like them, like us. That’s why no one can get in for long, not without them finding out."
Methos thought about what she had said, sifting through the partial sentences to gather her meaning. Apparently the government had created a group with specialized abilities, possibly as soldiers, and then tried to improve upon them. River and whomever else they had lured in with false promises had been part of the second generation. He sighed; getting into a secure base filled with geniuses with extrasensory abilities would be hard, if not impossible. Getting out again would be even harder.
"I suppose you have a plan," he said.
"Go straight in the front door," she agreed without any hint of mockery.
He waited for the shoe to drop.
"You’ll be dead."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sound pretty confident about this, considering I won’t even be there to help you at first."
She smiled. "Worked before."
Methos smiled back, impressed by her audacity. He retrieved his handheld from the living room, and they began to plan in earnest.