Kidnapped (23 page)

She managed to hold out almost twenty minutes, and then decided there couldn't be any harm in going to their room really quick, and after that maybe she could go look for him. She didn't get that far though; she spotted her lover on the floor as soon as she got through the door.

Running up to him, she scolded herself for waiting so long, and wondered how long he'd been laying there. Things had changed. He was paler than ever, but his heart seemed to be beating steadily now, even though his breathing was shallow. His uniform jacket was gone, the large wound had been cleaned and treated, and she wondered how he'd managed to do it all by himself.

It wasn't possible to wake him up, and experimenting further with the Alliance drug supply was out of the question. She might be shooting him full of amphetamine for all she knew. She knew she probably shouldn't move him, but she didn't want to leave him in the corridor either, so she ended up pulling him onto the bridge the best she could. He was heavy, and she didn't want that poor arm to bump into anything.

In this environment, Patricia knew she could be indecisive and seem fragile. It wasn't her world and she hadn't had the desire to make it hers. Now she had things to do, and burst into a frenzy of activity. She didn't know how long they'd be on their way; Travis hadn't managed to tell her, and she hadn't been able to make heads or tails out of the ship's computer, so she assumed it would be days at best, weeks at worst.

She kissed his cheek tenderly, headed towards Veronica's rooms to steal the Supreme Commander's soft mattress and bed linen, and made an improvised bunk for her lover on the bridge floor. It wasn't easy to get him up on it, and she was worried she'd bash his arm and maybe send flashes of pain all the way into whatever private darkness held him, but she finally managed, and found herself sitting on the floor, sweaty and panting after the strain.

Rubbing her tummy a little, she told the small life growing inside of her, "I'm sorry about all this, junior, but it's for your daddy. He's doing all he can for us, and we have to try back, okay."

Travis didn't move for hours, and she'd have to be content with him still being alive for now. She ended up curling up next to him, falling asleep holding his hand between hers, and she didn't wake up until the computer turned on the day-bright lights the next morning.

*****

Travis woke when Patricia started to move. He squinted and blinked, and found the nightmarish hallucinations that had held him captive for so many hours surprisingly difficult to shake; they wanted to follow him into reality. He didn't feel as feverish anymore. His arm still throbbed, his head pounded, and he felt queasy, but he could live with all those things.

During that first long day on the run, the couple spent most of their time on the stolen mattress, sitting close together, talking about anything and everything that came to mind.  Travis found it funny she'd robbed Veronica's room. He couldn't understand how she had gotten the idea, or how she'd been able to do it. The mattress was huge.

His arm still throbbed, sending waves of nausea through him, but he had expected that. He hadn't expected to be this feverish and shaky though, and it worried him. He didn't fear dying, and he had made arrangements for her if he himself didn't make it, but he didn't like the thought of her and the baby on their own. There were too many what-ifs.

For now, he preferred to believe these discomforts were just an aftermath from the red shot the day before. It had been more than his system had been able to cope with at the time, and having a hangover was more appealing than dying in front of his beloved. He decided not to think about it anymore, lifted her hand up in his and kissed it.

Patricia tried to make him eat something, but he refused everything but water. He also refused her half-hearted offer of Alliance medications, claiming that as long as he had the choice, he'd rather be in pain and completely himself. He'd had enough of them even before this happened.

The previous day was a blur to him, and he had forgotten all about going to their room to pick that little object up. He found it in his pocket by accident, and surprised Patricia with flashing a boyish smile. "I have something for you. It made me think of you. I didn't want to give it to you while Veronica was still on board, she'd just take it."

It, for some reason, made him feel oddly nervous, and a little ridiculous. Alliance Commanders did not give presents; they killed people, and this was all new to him.

He decided to plunge in and pulled out the little ring from his pocket, and his girl's reaction told him it had been the right thing to do. Her eyes went wide and round, and she looked utterly surprised as she exclaimed, "Ooooh, it's beautiful!"

Being able to surprise her felt good. He slid it on her finger and broke into a coughing fit, and was surprised at how nice it felt when she rubbed his back.

A minute or so later, Patricia was snuggled up against him again. He had wrapped his arm around her, and she was admiring her hand with the ring on it. She told him serenely, "In my culture, this would mean you asked me to be yours forever, and I would say yes."

He smiled and kissed the top of her head, answering quietly, "Then that's what it means."

Forever was an abstract concept, and right now it promised to be pretty short, though, he still liked the idea.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Patricia wondered how long it would take them to get to the rendezvous point, but she didn't want to ask. She knew if she asked he'd try to find out if it killed him, and the way he looked, getting up just might. Still, she was afraid and longed for help. The infirmary on the Redeemer seemed heavenly to her by now, and she suspected Travis and William would have wanted to meet up somewhere rather far from the planet.

The ship dropped out of hyperspace the next afternoon, and she asked, "Are we there already?"

She hadn't noticed that Travis had nodded off. Now he woke with a start and asked, "What? Oh, we're back in normal space."

She could never tell how he did that. To her, the ship sounded and felt exactly the same either way. It would vibrate and make a noise when it entered or left hyperspace, but other than that, she couldn't tell the difference.

As she was pulling him up to get to the consoles, she was hoping they were where they were supposed to be. She didn't know if it was possible for the Alliance to take the ship over remotely, but she didn't doubt it.

Travis sank down behind the controls and pulled his hand over his face before he started working, and she felt really useless. On TV back home on Earth any child could fly a spaceship. Wesley Crusher on Star Trek had been barely a teenager when he piloted the Enterprise, and even though that wasn't real, everyone she'd met since she left her own planet had been able to fly. So, why did it seem so incomprehensible to her?

Her lover saw what she thought from the look on her face and said gently, "Baby Doll, astronavigation isn't all that easy, and you've made tremendous progress. We wouldn't have gotten here if you hadn't flown the ship. You did that, all by yourself, and I'm more proud of you than you'll ever know."

He leaned over to kiss her cheek, wanting to encourage her, and her face warmed a little, delighted that he could be proud of her. How funny it was that he, who had been so clueless as to what to call her, had become the master of cute nicknames. He had of course put heart and soul into learning it, just as he would with anything she asked of him.

Pointing toward a screen, oblivious of her thoughts, Travis continued, "We're in the right spot, and I see the Redeemer out there."

She squinted at the image, and didn't see anything that made any sense, but if he said it was a ship, it was a ship. The air in the little room started to change. It felt electrified and all the little hairs on her arms prickled as William and Isabela teleported over to them.

*****

On one level, William hadn't really thought his old enemy would go through with the plan. Most people wouldn't sever a limb, even if keeping it put themselves in mortal danger. Standing there, looking around on the gloomy bridge and at the couple huddled together behind the controls, he couldn't help but feel a reluctant admiration. "You're one crazy son of a bitch."

Isabela smiled warmly at Patricia, and put a tracking-chip for the teleporter on the back of her hand. William saw her hesitate before giving one to Travis, and he nodded encouragingly. The feared Commander seemed pretty harmless at the moment, and he doubted even someone as paranoid as Aaren would be able to construe this as a trap. Not even the most fanatical hunter would cut his own arm off to get to his prey.

He winked at Patricia, thinking the girl looked pale and tired. He wanted to tell her everything would be alright, but considering all the Alliance forces would be on their tail, it seemed an exaggeration, and he settled for asking, "Are you ready?"

Travis nodded, and William lifted his communicator. "Four to teleport over."

*****

Travis was relieved to see the transporter room on the Redeemer. Patricia and the baby were safe, for the moment, and he could give in to the urges from his body and die in peace and quiet. He was leaning heavily on her, and darkness wanted to creep in on him when he was standing up.

His eyes fell on Madison, stepping closer with a hyposyringe in her hand, and he tried to straighten up. He looked sternly at her and said matter-of-factly, "If that's for me you can forget about it. You're not getting anywhere near me with that thing."

He didn't trust anyone on this ship enough to want them to inject him with anything, even if it wasn't from the Alliance. All his energy was spent, and he would rather die right there and then than go through the drug addiction again.

Madison smiled and answered with a serene expression, "Alright, have it your way."

William had just stepped off the teleporter pad, and now he turned around to face Travis, "You can't really mean you want her to carve in your body without..."

He didn't get any further. It would normally be impossible to sneak up on Travis, but he wasn't exactly himself, and Madison had pretended to approach Patricia, bent behind her and placed the needle in him, and he was sinking to the floor, too heavy for the girls to hold. William hurried to catch him, and said reproachfully, "Madison!"

The last thing he heard before sinking into merciful oblivion was the alien woman's voice, "Just get him to sickbay. He doesn't look good."

*****

Patricia watched William carry her lover away, and thought she should follow. Her feet just wouldn't move. She was overwhelmed with fatigue and her knees wanted to buckle and send her to the floor. Her friends were there, they were safe for the moment, and maybe everything would be alright, but they had left the ship behind, forever. Travis had once told her it was his home, very likely the only one he'd ever known. Now, William would be blowing it up, and it was a tragedy.

Calling the computer a friend might be exaggerating, but in this environment, it had sort of been true. It would die with the ship, and she was so tired the very thought made her want to weep. Not until Madison squeezed her shoulder and asked, "Are you alright?" did she regain control of her body. She nodded, and started to shuffle after the others.

The infirmary on the Redeemer was a huge open room with an office module in the middle, and Madison worked behind a force field to maintain a sterile environment, making it all too possible to see what she was doing. Patricia sat on a hard chair a little to the side, unwilling to leave him there and unwilling to look; it made her queasy.

She lost all grip on time, but hours must have gone by. Panic was creeping up on her. This was taking too long, he had been through too much, she was going to lose him for sure.

Unwanted pictures of a gray and lonely life were creeping into her mind, no matter how hard she tried to keep them out. Maybe she was condemned to live life on this ship forever, to raise her child here, in the middle of a war, hunted by the Alliance. Had it been a movie, the baby would surely grow to become the new rebel leader, but this wasn't a movie, it was life, and in life even good people would die.

She didn't want to succumb to hysteria and she was a firm believer in positive thoughts. If one didn't think about bad things, they surely wouldn't happen, couldn't happen, so why was it so difficult to keep this out of her mind? A pathetic whimper escaped her, and she wasn't even aware of hugging herself, as if to protect the baby, and she started rocking slowly back and forth. She wished desperately for some company, but was unable to leave long enough to get it, and instead she attempted to comfort both herself and the child growing inside her.

*****

Unseen by Patricia, William and Isabela appeared outside an infirmary window, watching quietly for a while. Isabela glanced up at her husband, entwined her fingers with his, and asked quietly, "Are you sure about this?"

He met her gaze, "Helping Travis?"

She nodded, "Yeah, I mean, we've already started, and I adore Patricia, but... You know what I mean."