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Chapter 2:
All Aboard

Rat sat at the com, holding his head in his hands and trying to concentrate through the blinding headache forming behind his eyes. A dozen bruises and scrapes from the riot were making themselves known, and the cut on his cheek had left his face sticky with blood. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to go back to quarters and lie down for a while, but that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

There had been a call waiting for him almost before he'd set foot back on the ship. Joshua Ten Bears was a warship captain and a good ally--the Exile's pilot, Jason, was even on semi-permanent loan from Joshua's crew. More to the point, Joshua knew all about Rat's telepathic abilities, and after the fiasco on the station, someone had put in an urgent call to him. That someone was probably Jason; Rat was under no illusions that one of the reasons Joshua had leant them the pilot was so that he could have someone sending regular reports back.

The other was genuine friendship, though. "I would advise you to leave dock as soon as possible and be on your way," Joshua's voice said over the com. "A great many people saw what happened, and most of them are asking questions. I won't deny that there are some who might think you represent...potential."

And might dissect my brain to get at that potential? "You could tell them it doesn't work that way. They'd listen to you."

Joshua's ship, the Red Cloud, was patrolling the outer reaches of the system, so the conversation was lagged to hell and back. After a wait of several minutes, Joshua's voice came again, this time tinged with amusement. "If only everyone was my friend, as you seem to believe. I do have some influence, but there are those who would argue against my counsel. Or who might believe that they could create telepaths without having to pay the price that comes with it."

Rat sighed. The price, as Joshua put it, was either total brain-wipe, or--as in his own case--the death of the personality who had existed before undergoing the process. In essence, Rat had come into being only three years previously, all knowledge of who he had been before gone forever. And he had still been luckier than the rest who had volunteered for the experiment. They'd been reduced to the level of newborns, unable to talk or feed themselves, let alone shoot a gun or fly a fighter.

It was all too easy to imagine someone who thought that there must be a way around the brain-wipe, and that it could be discovered if they only studied him long enough. "I understand. We'll undock as soon as we can."

Another long wait, then: "Good luck. If things go awry, contact me, and I'll do what I can to help. Did you receive the file yet?"

"It's here in the queue. Thanks, Joshua. Rat out."

Rat rubbed his eyes tiredly, then pulled up the file Joshua had secured for him. At least he wasn't the only one they were keeping tabs on, he thought wryly as he scanned the brief that one of Joshua's friends in station control had cobbled together. It was too informal to be called a service record, but the list of actions, vids, and anecdotes was in a way even more impressive.

Stifling a groan as a bruised muscle protested, he stood up and made his way to the lift. It rattled and clanked loudly as it hauled its way up to crew level, and he sincerely hoped that the damned thing didn't just get stuck one day. He did not like the idea of constantly climbing the emergency handholds up and down the shaft just to get from one level to the next.

The ship wasn't new, and despite the fancy engines that the previous captain had bargained out of Joshua, there were a thousand little things that needed maintenance. Some of the coms had an annoying buzz, the decking was scuffed and the walls scratched, and the dishwasher had started to make an ominous banging noise at the beginning of every cycle. No doubt the original owners would have been horrified to see what their proud trading vessel had become.

He got off the lift on crew level. The sound of voices came from the infirmary, so he turned his steps there, pausing in the door because the small room was already crowded to overflowing. Fiona and the pilot, Jason Silent Hawk, stood chatting in the language of Waga Chun. Fiona had a bandage swathed around her hand, and a small cut on her temple had been cleaned, but otherwise she looked unhurt. Alouette sat on the only chair, and Marcus perched on the bed, having his split knuckles cleaned by the medic, Neva Whitestone.

"That hurts," Marcus complained as she swathed disinfectant over the wounds.

"You'll live," Neva replied, absently flicking a lock of ash-blonde hair out of her face. Her haircut was ragged, just long enough to fall into her eyes, but too short to tie back into a ponytail. She had a heart-shaped face, and hazel eyes that shifted hue according to her mood. Her skin was ivory, so pale that he could see the blue veins through it, which made the red lines of her scars stand out that much more. Three slashed across her left cheek, and distorted the line of her mouth slightly when she smiled. Another bisected her right eyebrow. A ridge of reddened flesh started at her collarbone and vanished under her tank top.

Just the sight of her made him smile.

Jasmine let out a chirp of greeting and jumped from Alouette's lap to Rat's shoulder in a single, easy bound. Neva had just finished wrapping Marcus' hand; seeing Rat at the door, her brows contracted sharply. "You're hurt."

He shrugged. "I needed to talk to Joshua. It's nothing."

"At least let me clean it."

The disinfectant stung slightly as it touched the edges of the cut, and the smell made Jasmine abandon his shoulder and trot off down the corridor. When Neva stepped back, he caught her eye and gave her a smile. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Which was, he realized immediately, not a very captain-ish thing to say to the ship's doctor in front of other crewmembers. I'm never going to get the hang of this. Oh well.

"Would anyone like to go to the galley and get some food? We can talk there," he added, glancing at Fiona and Alouette.

Alouette's eyes widened a bit, and he felt the pang of hunger from her belly as if it were his own. "If it isn't too much trouble," she said hesitantly.

I know what it's like to be hungry. "No trouble at all."

While Jason heated a plate of samosas, the rest arranged themselves at the galley table, Rat, Neva, and Marcus on one side, and Alouette and Fiona on the other. Before Rat could think of anything to say, Fiona spoke up.

"So, you're a telepath," she said, looking at him with skeptical blue eyes. *can't be true but then how did he do what he did, some kind of weapon? but he knew the bully was going to be stabbing me in the back (gratitude), shouldn't have been able to see that from where he was sitting* "I thought psy powers were nothing but a fairy story."

"They were, until recently." He hesitated, wondering how much to say. Neva touched his hand beneath the table, and he wound his fingers through hers, taking comfort from the gesture. "Just like aliens were supposed to be. The Zats encountered aliens--telepathic ones--and managed to figure out how it was done. Don't ask me the details--I was just a lab rat." He grinned ruefully at the inadvertent joke.

*(worry) reading every thought, memories, can't deal with that*

*does he know, he has to know (shame)*

"I can't read minds, not like you might think," he said carefully. "For the most part, everything is a jumble--thoughts, feelings, memories, whatever. I might pick up on some subconscious things, although I'm not entirely certain how much, or even if I do. It's like being at a crowded party where everyone is constantly whispering all the time, day and night. Some times the whispers get louder--that's usually when someone is feeling strong emotion. Or if I'm touching them."

"Is that why you fell down when Fiona hit that man?" Alouette asked.

"Yes. I was touching him, so I felt his pain. I can shoot someone from a distance, but I can't hit them without hurting myself." He shrugged. "I don't handle crowds well, and I had to work long and hard to train myself to ignore the whispers as much as possible, because they were slowly driving me crazy."

"It was a short drive," Marcus put in around a mouthful of samosa.

Rat ignored him. "My...ability...can be useful. You've seen that. But only when it comes to loud surface thoughts, like the man who was trying to pass himself off as a navigator. Otherwise, I can be tricked, or lied to."

"And what you were doing to that crowd?" Fiona asked.

"The human brain isn't sent up to receive telepathic projections. If I ‘shout' back, it causes something like a concussion." And, just like other head trauma, it could kill. That had been his greatest fear before he had learned to live with his disability, that he would inadvertently kill everyone around him. "I just...I want you to understand what you'll be serving with, if you take the job."

"Which of us?" Fiona asked. "I'm only recalling one position being posted."

"We only need one navigator, that's true. But we're also short a first mate. That was why I asked you to stay around, Fiona. I picked up enough from you in the interview to think that you might be a good choice, but like I said, I have to rely on passive reception." He grinned. "So I had a friend who is a warship captain check to see if there were any records of your time with the resistance. Turns out there are quite a few."

Fiona shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I did what I could."

"You did more than that. I'm our only fighter pilot, and I need someone who can command the Exile in battle if I have to fly."

"Wouldn't it be easier to hire another fighter pilot?"

He shrugged. "Not if I want one as good as me."

"Cocky bastard."

"Just honest."

"Are we going to be doing much fighting?" Alouette asked quietly. She looked worried by the thought, and he couldn't blame her for it.

"I hope not. I'd just as soon not do any." Rat ran his hand back through his hair, absently tugging his dreads back from his face. "This ship was a privateer during the war, and a pirate vessel after the surrender. We made our living by attacking Zat supply ships, then selling the goods on the black market. A little legitimate trade on the side, when we could get it. Since we don't know what we'll be jumping into, I can't say for certain if we'll be doing any pirating or not. If we do, it will only be against the Zats. I won't take anything from an innocent freighter, or from anyone who truly needs it."

"And where is it that we're headed?" Fiona asked, and Rat grinned privately at her use of the word "we," as if she was already one of them.

"We're looking for a girl that the Zats took," Marcus answered. He stared at his plate, as if it had done him some grave personal injury. "My daughter."

"We're not sure where she is. We're not even entirely sure what happened to her. But we do have some leads." Rat looked first at Fiona, then at Alouette. "Well? Do you want to go back to the station? Or do you want to sign on with the crazy telepathic pirate captain?"

Fiona laughed and tossed back the last of her coffee. "Well, when you're putting it that way, how could anyone resist?"

Alouette hesitated, as he had known she would, and he felt the edge of her fear. Having her on board wasn't going to be easy on him, at least not until she grew to trust them. Maybe not even then, given how much trauma he suspected she had been through.

"Yes," she said at last, so quietly that he barely heard her. "I will come with you."

*   *   *

"So, it looks like you've been seeing some action," Fiona said, her eyes fixed on Neva's face.

They were in countdown for undock, and Neva had been securing the last of the medical supplies in the infirmary when Fiona appeared in the door. The tall woman leaned casually against the doorframe, but Neva wasn't fooled by her stance. From what little she'd seen, Fiona was probably taking a close look at her new ship and crewmates, and this conversation wasn't going to just be about Neva's scars.

Even so, she felt herself flush. She was used to being stared at off the ship, but aboard the Exile everyone had gotten so used to her looks that no one paid any attention to the scars anymore. And now we have two new people to gawk at me again.

"I'm from Harvest," Neva said shortly. "I was manning a gun emplacement on one of the moon's when the final attack came."

"Sorry I am to hear that, lass," Fiona said sympathetically.

Neva shrugged. The Zats had brought the war to a sudden end by bringing asteroids through in their jump field, boosted up to near c and sent on a collision course with the planet. She had been evacuated with the other wounded before then, but she'd seen footage of the assault, the planet's surface going molten from the impacts. Harvest had been an example, and the other systems still fighting the Zats had heeded it well and immediately surrendered.

"A don't actually remember the attack--I ended up concussed pretty good. They tell me that a round took out my position," Neva went on. "My betrothed was killed, and my face was blown off. I woke up in the hospital, and spent the next couple of years there, while the doctors put the pieces back together." Realizing that she sounded more bitter than she intended, she managed a smile and absently touched the raised ridges of tissue on her cheek. "They weren't quite done with the cosmetic operations when I left and came aboard the Exile."

"Brave of you," Fiona said.

It startled Neva, and she shook her head. "Not really. I was just drifting, then. Nothing mattered."

"I understand that." Fiona sighed and kicked absently at the door's track in the floor. "I did my fighting from space, until we got ourselves shot down over some God-forsaken rock. Ended up being ‘rescued' by the Zats, and shipped off to the POW camp on Waga Chun. A few weeks later, the resistance freed us. I've been running on dirt ever since, and I can tell you it's glad I am to have vacuum under me again."

"I'm a grounder at heart," Neva admitted.

Fiona grinned, but it had a wistful edge. "So was my wife. That's one of the reasons we ended up divorced. You're with the captain, that right?"

"Yes." Neva hesitated, wondering if she should elaborate. "He's a good man."

"Glad to hear it," said Fiona. She might have continued, except the com suddenly crackled to life.

"Ten minutes to undock," Rat's voice said. "All personnel to stations. All personnel to stations."

"Time to earn my keep," Fiona said with a crooked grin.

They took the lift down to the bridge. Fiona paused briefly, getting a look at the layout as Neva crossed to her station at scan. As she sat down and pulled the safety web across her, she was glad to hear Alouette's voice, relaying operational info back and forth with Jason. Earlier, the woman had been so quiet that Neva had been half-afraid she wouldn't speak up even during maneuvers, which could be a problem since pilot and navigator had to communicate closely. Although the conversation didn't have the easy flow that developed between partners used to one another's quirks and shorthand, at least Alouette was holding up her end.

"Welcome to the bridge, Fiona," Rat said; it still seemed odd to hear his voice coming from the captain's station. "Normally you'll handle com, but if you want to sit this one out and get used to us--"

"I'd rather start working, captain," Fiona said crisply.

Neva's boards powered to life, showing her a schematic of the system. Right now, all the ship signatures provided by system beacon glowed green, meaning that the Exile had been programmed to recognize them as friendly. It was the first time she could remember not seeing the red of enemy ships or the amber of unknowns. And probably the last as well.

The lane assignment from Control appeared, and Neva scanned it quickly. "We're clear," she reported.

"We're set to clear the system in four shifts, captain," Jason said. They weren't pushing it, then, but moving at the pace of a normal freighter getting up to jump speed, when the Savrasa engines would engage. "Course set for Naru Point."

A clang sounded through the hull. "Control reports docking clamps have released," Fiona said.

"Release our own clamps," Rat ordered.

Jason's hands flicked over his boards. "Clamps away. Firing Thrusters."

The now-familiar sense of weightlessness took hold as they disengaged from station rotation. A moment later, the cylinder kicked in, providing the illusion of gravity.

The Exile went through its routine motions, then lined up with the lane assigned by Control. As the first burn began, pressing them all back in their chairs, Fiona spoke up. "Naru Point, captain? That's being a turning point, isn't it, no station?"

"That's right," Rat replied guardedly.

"And where is it we're bound after that?"

There was a long moment of silence. "Outpost 56-G, Sector 3."

Alouette hissed in alarm.

"A Zat station?" Fiona asked, her voice just a little too calm. "And may I be asking why we would be heading for that?"

"Didn't you hear?" Marcus growled from the gunner's boards. "My daughter was taken by the Zats. Where else would we find her?"

"A lot of other places. They didn't normally send slaves to their stations, now did they?"

A long, painful pause. Then at last, Marcus said, "No. They didn't. But they did send their soldiers there."