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February 25th, 2008

[original][-9r; original_100 #2] The Heart Is Where Your Home Is [1/?][PG13]

This story will probably continue into the next prompt, though there might be some lost time between parts.

And I appreciate any comments, even if they're "Didn't read because your layout sucks/is making me blind." Because if the layout's a problem, I can always write a new one or x-post, y'know?

And I forgot to say yesterday that the rest of the 'verse is here, under -9r. 

 
002. Middles
The Heart Is Where Your Home Is
In which you get the middle part of a story, and Sellis loses the Rattatosk.

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The station had siding. Fake wood panels that had probably been glued on, years and years ago when the place was newer and still had half a hope of passing for something other than a squalid dump. Those days were long gone, if they'd ever been at all. The panels were moldering and peeling away from their backing--a sure sign that the air circulation system wasn't working properly.

 
            "They called it the 'classic suite'?" Marsh said dubiously, poking at the edges of the discolored paneling, and making a face as piece of it easily separated from the wall and peeled off.

 
           "Something's probably living in the vents. Mold. Maybe vermin. That sort of thing," Cahill said, by way of agreement. It was Sellis's cue to get impatient with their complaining, but Sellis just dumped his bag and snapped at Marsh not to destroy rented property and flopped onto one of the beds.

 
            "Where are the girls?" Cahill said, "I want to compare notes."

 
            "They're living in luxury," Sellis said, flat. Either annoyed and deadpanning or indifferent and humoring him, "I sacrificed my own personal comfort so they could sleep on feather beds."

 
            Marsh flicked bits off fake wood from his fingers, "Huh. That doesn't sound like you," he said, and inspected where the grime had clung to his skin before looking up, "Why can't we stay on ship?" Now there was a testament to the state of the place. Marsh was often the first off-board, and the first to get antsy when disembarking wasn't an option.

 
            "Because." It was the sort of patronizing answer that was likely to annoy Marsh, and as predicted his eyes narrowed in irritation. It annoyed Cahill that Sellis acted like he was a cut above a saint, all self-righteousness and sanctimonious guilt when really he wasn't adverse to needling Marsh himself when the mood took him.

 
            "Because of what?" Cahill said when Marsh didn't persist.

 
            "Because someone's pinged our cargo hold."

 
            "'Pinged' your cargo hold?" Cahill repeated, "What do you mean 'pinged'?" He could guess. He knew as well as Sellis did what they were carrying, and the sort of trouble they could get into, even not trapped station-side. He felt trapped. A little queasy with the sense of it, and the idea of Sellis scheming on his own.

 
            Marsh piped up again, "Does Lilaey know about this?" and looked sincerely concerned that she might not, which was, Cahill thought, a much sharper insult to Sellis's authority than any intentional attack.

 
            Sellis must have caught it too, because he canted a look at Marsh and said, "Lil's not the captain of this ship."

 
            Marsh continued to look unconvinced and opened his mouth to say something. Cahill cut him off, "It really won't matter if we lose the damn Rat, will it? We should be getting the hell out of here, not sitting on out asses in the belly of this tub." He gestured at the walls around him to indicate the station, and Sellis's gaze followed where his arms waved, then slid calmly back to his face.

 
            God, but the man was infuriating.

 
            "Sellis, I swear to god--"

 
            "What are we looking at?" Marsh said, and it was a dark day when they had to rely on Marsh to bring sense back into the discussion. Marsh, who took his cues off a man who was clearly unhinged.

 
            "We don't have fuel to run. You know as well as I do we were lucky to make it here," Sellis said, answering Marsh's question, but directing his reply at Cahill, "We run, they catch us. It's better to lay low. It's a big station."

 
            It was also a finite station. A floor-by-floor search would eventually flush them out. "You're insane," Cahill said.

 
            "We'll steal her back. We might lose the cargo, but--"

 
            "Steal her back? You're out of your goddamn head."

 
            Marsh said, "What about fuel?" It was like facing two Sellises, when Marsh was so ready to go along with his logic, or at least what Sellis tried to pass off as logic.

 
            "She's fueling now, remember? They won't stop docking process just for a search."

 
            So the plan was to be conveniently absent when the authorities turned up Sellis's arsenal of undocumented weaponry, and then elude capture until they could hijack their ship back. "I should never have left home," Cahill said, and sat heavily down on the other bed. Tried very hard not to put his face in his hands, but found himself doing so anyway.

 
            Sellis pushed himself up. Said, in a tone that might have been meant to be reassuring, "I have it all worked out, Cahill."

 
            "God, is that a threat?" They really should run all this past Lilaey and the sooner the better, before they ran out of options. Before Sellis's insanity was the only plan left to them. "Not to try to appeal to what common sense you might still be in possession of, but what about Marsh?"

 
            "What about him?" Sellis asked, in a tone that clearly said that Marsh at least was being cooperative, and wasn't, at least for the moment, the problem.

 
            Cahill sighed. "If they catch us with stolen weapons, if they catch us trying to steal back a ship loaded with stolen weapons--Hell, Sellis, if they catch us at all, he's as good as dead. I hope you know that. I hope you didn't lose all your marbles during the blow to the head you've clearly suffered."

 
            Sellis looked doubtful, "There's always a risk" he said, a little more quietly, slouching a little more.

 
            Marsh said, "It's alright, Sellis."

 
            "Oh, it's 'alright', is it? How about a little self-preservation? Would that really hurt so much? Obviously, you haven't seen a loop code in far too long for your own good."

 
            That was over the line. Cahill knew it as soon as the words left his mouth. Marsh actually took a step back, away from him, and Sellis sat up a little straighter. Said, "Leave him alone," like it was Marsh Cahill was trying to drag over the coals and not Sellis. Over the line or not, Cahill stuck to his guns.

 
            "The codes are in your office, right? You don't think the swarm or whoever else is after your skin isn't going to have a vested interest in digging up information on your felonious compatriots? They could get names, the details of every job you've run in the last--what? Four years? Something like that? They could get the position of every safe harbor from Old Space to Eriannon, and won't the crooks thank you for that."

 
            "There's easier ways than loop codes," Marsh said, with freakish practicality. Maybe jumping to Sellis's defense, even if the information was irrelevant to the point Cahill was trying to make.

 
            "I don't think you'll like them any better," he said, and Marsh twitched and looked to Sellis, who had gone angrily silent, then back to the damp-stained walls.

 
            "We don't really have a choice," Sellis said, with strained patience, "I didn't get us into this mess for the fun of it, Cahill."

 
            He could enjoy it less, though, Cahill thought, and scowled. "How much time have we got until we can consider the tub fueled?"

 
            "A few hours. We won't stay here long."

 
             "We need a better plan than 'We're stealing or boat back'. You know that, right?" It was a fair bet, but a bet nonetheless. Sellis made plans on the fly, and pulled them off by the skin of teeth, most times. The skin of all their teeth, really, and for all Cahill was a gambling man, he didn't like to try his luck too often. No sense in running it dry, playing the line between risk and stupidity when it wasn't absolutely necessary.

 
            Marsh took a breath and let it out in a huff. Said, "So, should I go tell Lilaey you've lost the Rat, then?"

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rurounibug ; 11:22 PM|fine, ignore me

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