"What's our ETA?" Trowa questioned into his personal ships com-link as he made his way to his own quarters after leaving med-lab. He didn't think that the likelihood of remaining unmolested in this particular sector of space was very high and it was a soldiers duty to be well rested in case of an attack.
"Three days and seventeen point seven hours to destination," one of the nameless ships techs replied over the com channel.
There was still plenty of time for the Space Pirates to launch a possible counter attack to try and retrieve the chip if indeed they realized who possessed it. Trowa was reasonably certain that the vessel that Midii had destroyed in the process of stealing the chip away from them had been able to get out a last transmission telling who what when where and why, so an attack was only to be expected.
"Have the crew go to level five alert," he ordered. Level five was the lowest level next to alert:normal. Basically the crew was on standby, there wasn't an attack yet but there was an increased possibility of one, all systems would scan for intruders in that sector and weapons would be running warmer than normal.
"Aye," he was acknowledged and the announcement was made.
In a few more hours the woman they had picked up would awaken and he would likely be able to get some more information out of her regarding the space pirates. If she had worked for them as long as she said she had and knew as much about their inner workings as she had intimated, she might prove to be a valuable resource after all.
*
Midii awoke reluctantly. Her body hurt, dimly she recognized the slight nagging irritation as several scratches, minor ones and a couple of bruises on her ribs but nothing truly major. She lay there for a few minutes taking stock of recent events and putting her thoughts in order. She had taken a contract by one of her more lucrative employers, Truman Incorporated, to steal back a piece of stolen technology taken by the space pirates. The mission had been going fine until the last minute, she didn’t have all the facts so she couldn’t supply any details but the space pirates had somehow become aware of her and her counter-theft activities. In a move of desperation she had abandoned her ship and blown it and the pirate ship that had attached to it in order to board it to space dust by overloading the engine reactor causing an overload. She had only had about three fourths of a days worth of oxygen-mix (the usual amount of nitrate, monoxide, oxygen and other trace elements found in normal breathable air) in her suit pack. Whatever god or divine force that might exist out there in the universe had smiled upon her and saved her life with a rescue at the last minute. Her rescuer had been handsome too. Gazing up into his face for that brief moment, she had at first thought he might be some kind of an angel.
She still had yet to learn his actual name, the Preventor who had saved her life and then seemingly tried his damnedest to make things difficult for her. Midii could almost swear he had some kind of personal vendetta out against her, or at least a tiny smidgen of grudge. She wasn’t sure why… well then again, she did have a lot of enemies, partly because it came with the territory but mostly through her own fault; Midii had a bit of an addiction to prodding at people to get a reaction. Any reaction would do. She could never seem to resist trying to get a rise out of someone, and the more someone ignored her the worse it got! It was an absolute addiction with her; and boy did she ever like those cool strong silent types… it was like catnip to her kitten. It had landed her into big trouble on more than several occasions but she couldn’t seem to resist it… she had to know what made someone tick; like a little kid in an elevator she had to push those buttons. And that Preventor from last night, the one with the cool eyes and the heavenly voice, the one who had nearly succeeded in making off with her prize now that she thought about it!
With a panicked jolt she reached for her cross and the mirochip cached inside of it where the transmitter had been stored once years ago. The necklace was old, expertly repaired, but the hollowed out compartment made a convenient storage place for tiny articles such as the chip she carried now. She tried to convince herself that that was the reason she carried it around with her, and not the memory of an old friend she had tried to protect even if it meant sacrificing her own life. No time for a trip down memory lane! She had places to go people to be!
She checked her wrist watch and realized that she'd slept like the dead. It was already after one of the next day! Oh well, her body needed to heal anyway. A loud noise emanating from her stomach told her that her body needed to be refueled as well and quickly. She ran a hand through her hair, but as usual it insisted on falling forward back into her face again. Her clothes were quite a bit the worse for wear, and she could use a good vibe scrub as well. To her pleasure she noted that a clean set of coveralls had been left out for her and the screen to adjoining vibe-scrub unit was opened invitingly. Shower first, then eat.
Feeling much refreshed after a good cleaning, she cheerfully donned the fresh coverall that had been left out for her and left the irritatingly bland med lab to find the ships mess. She knew they had to have one; a ship this size holding as many crew members as it took to run it had to have one.
She wandered aimlessly for a bit, looking around her. Whatever ship she was in certainly had a very unusual design! In fact, in the six years that she spent out in space space-hopping with the pirates she'd never seen one like it... and she'd seen a lot of ships. She looked around her appraisingly, assessing her surroundings with eyes trained to take in details.
<Hmm, I don't hear the usual sounds associated with fuel-driven thrust propulsion engines and that's what everyone uses to make interplantetary and inter-colonial travel... despite the fact that the huge fuel tanks take up too much room and create needless amounts of drag thus decreasing travel time. There's carpeting over the deck plating, and all access panels are touch-display. Whoever had made this thing has money! And a psychological predisposition for neutrals; walls have been painted in Fired Steel Grey, floor carpeting in Smokestack Grey and accoutrements in either black or Charcoal.>
Her innate curiosity was prompting her to explore her surroundings a little more closely, she'd never seen anything like this ship before and she wanted to know about it, and not just because the information would be worth money for a woman who trafficked in information like she did, but also because she admired her pretty surroundings.
She was surprised when she rounded a corner and almost ran smack the Preventors from earlier; the tall one she'd had so much fun with, and his shorter blonde friend.
"There you are!" The blonde Preventor said. Midii blinked at them in surprise, she hadn't known that anyone was looking for her.
"Yes, here I am... could you give me directions to the ships mess?" she inquired. "I'm hungry."
"You must be after everything you've been through," the boy-faced young blonde said solicitously. "If you want, you can have lunch with us. I'd love to hear some more about your travels."
Midii looked at his suspiciously; he seemed genuine enough but he could be trying to pump her for information.
The tall one confirmed her suspicions when he added
“And you can tell us more about pirate activities within this sector, I would like to have a more precise idea about the likelihood of an attack on this ship as we travel.”
“Oh you shouldn’t press her so hard, she’s had a difficult couple of days and she’s just now out of med-lab despite whatever run around you two might have had earlier. The doctor hasn’t even checked her out yet so you shouldn’t be so demanding,” the shorter blonde said to his tall friend in admonishing tones.
“It’s alright,” Midii said with a bright smile. “You two don’t need to play good-cop bad-cop with me. I’ll be cooperative just this once. After all, your survival is my survival.”
“But we weren’t-“ the blonde said then stopped as the tall one shook his head slightly.
“She won’t believe you Quatre,” he said. “Let’s just count our blessings that she’s decided to be helpful for a change.” He took Midii firmly by the elbow, thus communicating that she didn’t really have a whole lot of choice in the matter of whether or not she would be dinning with them and led her off to the mess hall.
The ships mess was as elegant as the rest of the ship, another study of neutrals. Tables in Charcoal grey and black, padded benches and chairs in a lighter shade of grey to match the walls and carpeting. There were windows all along one wall affording a beautiful view of the stars as they passed by on their journey. It was funny, when she had been a little girl Midii had never wanted to leave Earth. She had envisioned herself spending all of her days in her quiet peaceful village, marrying a strong handsome husband, building her own home and having lots of children. But that had been while he mother had still been alive and her father had been healthy and the war had yet to reach their door. It was funny, how dreams sometimes changed. When was it? When had her standard of living slipped down to merely surviving one more day? Well, no matter, she was here now for better or worse and no matter how she disliked outer space she was going to have to be there for a while longer. Perhaps someday…
“Hey! Quatre! Over here!” a cheerful voice called from off to the left. When Midii glanced over her eye met the most casually scruffy young man she’d seen in a while. He was a little taller than the blonde Quatre, with a black leather jacket, and a long braid swinging down the back of his chair. He was seated across from a woman with dark black hair, very bright blue eyes, and the face of a pixie.
“D-Duo!” Quatre said, his face a study in delight. He was like a happy puppy! He made Midii smile just watching him.
“Heya buddy-boy! Nice digs!” Duo was a more casual, laid-back kind of delighted.
“How did you two get here?” Trowa inquired. Midii couldn’t be certain but she could almost sense and infinitesimal bit of warmth in the cool tall man’s voice. They must all be friends then.
“I just got on an hour or two ago,” The one with the braid said as they sat down at the table. “We heard some rumors about unusual stuff n this sector a while ago and decided to check it out. No one ever suspects the salvage operators and all that. The fellow who gave the order to board your ship worked with me an’ Howard so it’s all on the up and up.”
Duo suddenly took notice of Midii; his eyes widened and he whistled. Midii preened, just a little; she did fill out a space suit rather well if she did say so. Finally! Some one who noticed! “Who’s that Q? One of your sisters?”
“Huh? Oh, no,” Quatre replied. “I guess we do look a bit alike now that I look at us though.”
“A stowaway then?” Hilde inquired, shooting a black look at her inappropriately appreciative partner.
“No,” the tall man replied. “She’s space salvage. I’ll sell her to you for fifty credits.”
Duo looked over at the man beside her like he’d grown a second head while Midii abruptly saw red. Why that-! How dare he?!
“Tro? Did you just make a joke? Well that settles it, the apocalypse is at hand; guess I should be on the lookout for four horsemen,” Duo abruptly grinned. “I’d take you up on it, but I don’t think Hilde would ever forgive me.”
“Count on it,” the young woman affirmed darkly.
While they had conversed, Trowa had firmly sat Midii down at the table between himself and Quatre; as if she were likely to make another attempt at an escape. Silly man! Why could she possibly want to escape now when she had her rightful property in hand and the promise of a good meal before her if she was nice to them? Giving the Preventors information about her current enemies so that they could fight them and ensure her survival for her sounded like a good game plan to her. All around, she won.
“Okay, we’re seated,” Trowa said turning her in her chair to face him. “Start talking.”
<Geez! This guy doesn’t know the meaning of the word moderation, does he?> she thought rhetorically. <All work and no play has definitely made this Jack a dull boy.>
Once again it was blondie to the rescue.
“Trowa! She hasn’t even had a chance to eat yet,” Quatre admonished, signaling to the nearby staff.
“The sooner we get the information, the sooner we can prepare a more appropriate defense,” was the tall one’s reply, evidently his name was Trowa.
“Nice to see a man who knows how to treat a lady with proper gentlemanly decorum,” she said smiling brightly at Quatre then giving a long pointed glance at that “Trowa.” If he didn’t recognize the barbed slight for what it was, then he was dumber than a volunteer shark-repellant tester. His face tinged slightly with pink; good, he had earned a little shaming. Midii was willing to bend, but only so far… she was not a pretzel.
“Now, onto business,” she said. “As you know we are in sector 10 by 17 by 12-“
“Actually it’s thirteen now,” Quatre corrected apologetically for interrupting her.
“Yes well that’s still well within the area,” Midii continued. “This sector might not get a whole lot of traffic normally, but as you know that was not always the case. There is an asteroid field about two or three days travel from here by regular ship.”
“Yes, but that field was mined out long ago,” Quatre protested.
“Which is precisely what makes it the perfect
place to hide. There exists in that field a sort of main-port of cobbled
together asteroid facilities, mining parts, spaceship hulls; you name it and
they’ve welded it together. It supports oxygen and normal gravity thanks to the
generators. They use it as a main base and port of call for this particular
sector, kind of like ancient pirates used special islands in the
“I see, so what you’re tryin’ ta say is that even though this sector is so far off the beaten path, if we continue on the way we’re going we’re gonna head right into a nest of pirates,” Duo summarized.
“You put it succinctly my friend, that’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you,” replied Midii cheerfully. Her stomach growled and a large tray of food was placed in front of her. She gave a cry of joy and dug right in like she hadn’t seen food in days; well, she actually hadn’t.
“I was afraid she’d say sumthin’ like that,” Duo grumbled. Midii ignored him in favor of making her way through the food in the tray in front of her with alacrity. Once she’d finished with the portions allocated she turned to her blonde benefactor with pleading expectant eyes. More please? The young man, he couldn’t be much older than she, smiled softly and signaled for another tray which was borne in by a dark-skinned man with sunglasses, a fez and a vest. Midii flashed a grin of gratitude and dug in again. Who knew when she’d get the opportunity for free food again.
“Since you so astutely pointed out that our survival is your survival, you might also want to point out the best way to navigate through this sector,” Trowa said with a slight edge to his tone. Midii looked over at him with wide blue eyes.
“What makes you think I know?” she asked. She was treated to a slightly exasperated look on the part of green-eyes as he said (with exaggerated patience)
“I had assumed that you knew how to get through the sector because you said you know the space pirates.”
“Well that’s what you get for assuming,” she replied primly. “I’ve only heard of this sector, I’ve never actually been here before.”
“You said you worked for space pirates.”
“Yes, I said I worked for some space pirates. As a general rule they’re not all the same. In fact they generally tend to be about as different as most free-spirited individuals can be. It a rather complex and fascinating web of alliances and counter alliances and it always shifts depending on any crews deeds or whimsy. For example, two groups might be enemies for five years and then one of them falls into a bit of a spot and instead of leaving him there to rot the other crew might decide that they’re tired of beign enemies (and the prize that the other ship was after is more tempting than anything they’ve been able to find lately) and help them out. Then they two crews will be friendly for a while; or at least until one betrays the other or tries to rob them, whichever comes first. Now I can tell you about certain groups of pirates that were allied with the ones I worked with, and I can tell you about certain groups of pirates that were not-friendly or rivaled with the group I traveled with.”
“Oh great,” Trowa muttered. “You’re not much help.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Midii replied, nettled and irritated with him once more. “You did me a fair turn, in fact more than a fair turn. I owe you a few so I’m going to do my best for you. Fist off, I would recommend ditching this baby. It’s a very nice ship, a very very nice ship. It would make a very tempting prize and you don’t look like you have the crew or the weapons to fend off what this sector can throw at you.”
“Ditch it where?” Quatre inquired.
“Do you have a map?” Midii asked. In answer Trowa pushed something on the edge of the table and the table surface under Midii’s tray blinked into a map of the sector. She whistled appreciatively. “Nice.”
“Well?” he inquired after she studied it for a minute.
“Gimme a sec, will ya?” she said, searching the map. “All distance in space is relative but last I knew it was somewhere around here… ah!” Midii pointed a slender finger at a small cluster of specks on the map.
“It’s an old refueling station,” she explained. “The guys I used to work for took it over but then abandoned it a couple of years ago.”
“Why’d they abandon it?” Trowa asked suspiciously.
“It was more trouble than it was worth to keep. A crew widened their influence and control over this area and that meant that my crew’s control shrank. There was a bit of a scuffle and the refueling station was abandoned because it wasn’t profitable to keep it any more.”
“So how do you know the other guys aren’t using it?” Trowa inquired.
“Ever hear the old phrase ‘poisoning the well’?” Midii replied. “The old disarm codes should still work. We can stash your ship there and continue on in something a little more… unobtrusive.”
“I don’t like abandoning my new ship out in the middle of no-where but you’re right in saying that it would attract too much attention otherwise,” said Quatre. “Incognito it is.”
“And just think, if you guys hadn’t picked me up you would have probably walked right into a big mess of trouble without even a warning,” Midii couldn’t resist pointing out.
“Somehow, I think that the only mess of trouble we have is the one we picked up,” Trowa replied glancing sideways at her. Midii stuck her toungue out at him.
Yeah, whatever,” she grumbled digging in to her third tray of food. “Just call me when we get within proximity to the refuel station and I’ll give you the disarm codes.”
*
Midii typed away at the sending feed to the hulking refueling station that loomed over the ship like a giant metal monolith. That was the interesting thing about building in space, the structures they built didn’t have to be built to support themselves for there was no gravity to support it from so the refueling station looked like an immense lacy metal spider. The center of the spider was where the central computer, the fuel tanks and supply tools were kept as well as the communications devices and other necessities. The long thin spindly legs of the refueling station ended in docking terminals to connect the ships doors and oxygen containers.
“There, the commands went through,” Midii said. “It’s pretty lucky for us that no-one’s bothered to take this place over and change the commands. Beginning docking procedures now.”
With a soft thump the ship settled into place at the terminal of the daddy-long-leg-like structure and Midii fed int eh commands to run the ships oxygen and fuel in through the stations. It was at that moment that the ships comuter blanked out followed quickly by the lights and the power.
“What did you do?” Trowa hissed in the darkness.
“Nothing,” she hissed back. “Just fed in the old commands to refuel and resupply while we’re here.”
“So tell me something then, why the sudden black-out?”
“I dunno yet. If you ask me it seems almost like a…”
“Trap,” Trowa finished for her. “Let me guess, your old crew and the ones that took over this sector aren’t exactly the best of allies right now.”
“Oh, crap,” Midii muttered,
desperately trying to bring the ships computer back on line to detach from the
station. There was a sudden hissing noise emitting from all of the nearby
vents. Then Trowa, Midii
and the skeleton crew knew no more.
* * *
She awoke slowly, her consciousness penetrating the thick cotton between the waking world and the dreaming with slow reluctance; her head was pounding and she was abruptly aware that her relative position was unnatural. All of the blood had rushed to her head and her hair was hanging up. She was hanging upside down? She opened her eyes and looked around her, confirming it. Yep, she was upside down alright. Blinking a few times to try to clear some of the lethargy from herself she mentally took store of her position.
The room was pretty strange, like some odd devisment you'd see in a really bad action flick. The floor above her head had long sharpened spikes sticking up out of it, probably to impale the poor sucker trying to escape. There was a single barred access panel across the chamber roughly fourteen feet to her left. She wasn't alone in her prison either and as she got a closer look at her surroundings she realized the true ingeniousness of the trap she now found herself in. She was hung suspended on a length of chain. Instead of being attached to the ceiling, the chain was threaded through a pulley that was attached to the ceiling. The length of chain traveled, rather resembling a tightrope, along the ceiling for a few feet then threaded through another pulley; from that length of chain was suspended the other occupant of the room. In order to prevent the escape of either of them they had been tied into what essentially amounted to a giant set of scales; take the weight off from one end and the person at the other end plummeted to their gory death. Strung up on the other end was the tall Preventor, Trowa; he looked like the tarot card the Hanged Man. Their captors had decided to make him particularly uncomfortable and had only secured one of his legs to the chain; the other had been left to dangle in a very discomforting manner. Attached to the chain just above her ankles were some metal counterwieghts to keep the balance between the two of them (Midii was considerably lighter than the well muscled and yummy looking Preventor). So, even if she managed to pick all of the locks on her chains and tried to escape, she would be sentencing her chain-buddy in this little scenario of doom to a rather grisly death or serious wounding. Likewise if he tried to escape, and the weight was taken off his end of the line... she'd go down.
Midii looked down (up) at herself. Her ankles were in thick cuffs that were hooked over an ordinary hook, like she was meat in a meat locker. Her wrists were secured behind her back in special cuffs that prohibited the movement of her thumbs, furthermore, the incredible thumb-not-moving wrist cuffs were secured to her waist by a metal belt that locked at her belly button. She tugged at it... her hands weren't going anywhere. If her hands had been tied in the front of her body she could just bend up, seize the chain just above the hook and unhook her feet but she didn't think she was capable in her present condition of bending backwards against the force of gravity to accomplish the same feat. As a further precaution, the ones who had kidnapped her had stripped her of almost all of her clothing as well as the weapons, lockpicks, and other little devices she habitually kept with her as part of her profession. She had been stripped down to a halter top and skin-tight pants that concealed nothing and the underclothing that went on under them.
Midii began to contemplate the problem before her as she waited for her cell mate to wake up. Like it or not, she was going to need his help and cooperation if she was going to get out of here, get her chip back, and cash in her payment. She looked about her more carefully. The room was twenty by twenty around, there was a barred window on the wall nearest her and a small platform on the wall farthest from her that led to the doorway in and out; said doorway hung about three feet above the line of the floor, half a foot above the tips of the spikes. The pulley above her head was about five feet from the wall, no way she could just reach over. The window wasn't too far away, maybe even within swinging distance of her chain, but there wasn't any way she would be able to grab onto those bars without her hands free; leading her back to the problem of having no lockpicks. She could reach Trowa if he swung over to him and he to her; they would be able to meet in the middle. Their respective chains gave them that much reach, perhaps he would have some form of pick or even a bit of wire on him that she could use to pick his cuffs. Once he had his hands free she was certain he'd return the favor.
Trowa opened his eyes and she smiled and said
"Good morning honey!" He groaned and tried to shake the grogginess away. After that he instantaneously took stock of his surroundings. He was fast, by the look on his face and the way his eyes flicked about the room he'd taken in everything and come to the same types of conclusions she had in about half the time it had taken her. The questions he asked confirmed her suspicions.
“Our situation is unusual. You’re the expert; do you have any idea where they have taken us?”
“I’ve heard about them, never actually seen one of them however. It’s sort of a rat’s maze with us as the rats.”
“Why in heavens name are they bothering with such an elaborate set-up?”
“In the old days, pirates used to make people walk the plank for entertainment. They’ve gotten more creative nowdays,” she replied with a shrug. Trowa blinked.
"Did they leave you any of your weapons or paraphernalia?" he asked.
"Not a bit. They took my clothes, my shoes, my accessories... they even checked my hair and mouth for the extra set I keep in there. Not a single pick on me."
"Me niether," he confirmed calmly. "Looks like we'll have to improvise. Do you have anything at all that could be used for a pick? A pin, a belt buckle, a bit of wire?"
Midii was about to shake her head when she shrugged her shoulders to adjust her bra strap and she remembered that the bra she had chosen to wear that day was the supportive kind instead of a sports bra.
"Well, my bra has an underwire," she said helpfully.
"Good enough," he said and started swinging. Midii shrugged and matched her swings to his and after a few times trying and missing each other, the Hanged Man hooked his free leg around hers. She discovered that her chain was a bit longer than his even though he was taller and heavier than she. Their relative hieghts and positions had landed Trowa Barton in a position most men with active hormones would envy; planted face-first into her cleavage.
"Owww," she groaned. "Ow."
"Are you alright?" he inquired. He moved his head to look up at her face, eliciting another pained moan.
"Be careful please, those are my breasts your head is pillowed on and they're tender."
"My apologies," he said in that same mild tone of his. Wasn't he the least bit affected by this at all? Midii began to feel a trifle put-out; what kind of machine was this guy?! Most normal men would have had some kind of reaction; an embarrassed stammer, a suggestive comment, or even taking a little advantage and enjoying a small snuggle. This guy acted as if she had merely announced that it was cloudy outside. She knew she didn't have watermelons attached to her chest, but she wasn't flat either... in fact Midii was rather fond of her endowments; nice, pert, bouncy but not too bouncy and just right for her figure. By all evidence he hadn't even noticed! Midii felt herself becoming offended. How dare he not notice?! Especially in a situation like this! She wasn't asking him to sing her praises but a little appreciation wouldn't hurt. She shrugged the feeling of insult off in favor of getting out of there as quickly as possible. Hanging upside down was far from comfortable.
"How do you propose we get to the underwire?" she inquired.
"My hands are secured, I'm going to have to work it out with my teeth," he informed her flatly.
Midii stiffened in shock and offended maidenly modesty, and bit back her automatic retort of "You most certainly will not!"
"With your teeth?" she asked dumbly, unable to think of anything else to say in response to such a proposition.
"Yes," he said tonelessly. "Where is the underwire?"
"Don't you know anything?!" she murmured in surprise. How had he made it to the age of eighteen (or thereabouts) without knowing the basic design of womens underclothing? Most guys knew the pratfalls and challenges (and how to manuver around them) of the various types of bras women wore better than the women themselves did.
Un beknownst to either of them, their compatriots woke up in another cell next to them at that point. Their method of detainment was different from Trowa's and Midii's; another puzzle to work their ways out of. After getting their bearings were listening in on the escape attempt going on in the next cell.
"You're going to have to make it to the bra first," she informed him. (Duo sniggered, while Hilde looked amused, and Quatre began turning pink.) "Which means lifting up the top they gave me. And the underwire is just under the breast... it'll be easier to remove if you loosen the bra first."
"Loosen?" he inquired.
"There's a closure... I think this one is in the front," she explained.
"Zipper?" he said with what sounded like a note of hopefulness in his voice. Midii couldn't blame him, a zipper would have made things a lot easier in this case. Instead she said
"Nope. This one has hook-and-eye fasteners, five of them." Midii could have sworn she heard a frustrated sigh as he took the zipper of her halter top in his teeth and with a jerk of his head pulled downward.
Midii giggled. She couldn't help it... his hair was tickling her stomach! She tried to hold it in as the ex-Gundam Pilot dropped the zipper and glared at her but as soon as he bent his head down again she broke out laughing.
"Stop squirming," he ordered her.
"I can't help it, your hair tickles," she said, gasping for breath and laughing helplessly as his hair, like feathers, found the most sensitive spots on her stomach and tickled them. She had automatically tried to squirm away from him.
"Hold still," he reitereated severely, tightening his hold on her with his leg lest they swing apart. She continued to laugh as he rolled his eyes... he'd never understood the thing called "tickle" appaently. Midii would be willing to bet no one had taught him. That sobered her up long enough to finish with the halter top.
The bra exposed to the slightly chill air of the unusual cell like a flower unfolded before the sun.
*
With the critical and professional air of a scientist, Trowa tipped his head back to examine the puzzle posed by the five fastening mechanisms lined up in a row before him from another angle. How to get them open while unable to use his hands? It wouldn't be a problem if she was a little less well endowed, but the young woman filled out the cups to perfection creating the necessary amount of tension to ensure that the devices remained closed. Hn. Oblivious to the implications of the scene he contemplated the problem until he was interrupted.
"Enjoying the veiw?" the young woman whose breasts he was considering the best way to free from their confines questioned with a cheerfully amused look on her face. The stoic pilot didn't dignify the question with a response. At least the two of them were alone in this predicament together. He wasn't certain he'd be able to act as calm and sanguine if there had been observers. How had they gotten in such a crazy predicament in the first place? Really, the whole situation was ri-frickin'-diculous. Who spent their time and resources creating stupid looking scenarios like the one he had been put into? He was hanging upside down above a floor full of metal spikes, counterwieghted by another person, with a very painful fall spelled out for either of them if the other tried to escape. What was the point? Was there really a point in this elaborate set up?
Now he had been relegated to nosing about in the warm, soft and apparently tender bosom of an ex-spy and trouble maker who seemed to derive her greatest joy and amusement from finding new and creative ways to make him feel uncomfortable. It wasn't that he wasn't aware of Midii Une and her sensuous femininity, he was all too aware of it, but it would be playing right into her little game if he let her know he was aware of it. He wasn't at all unobservant, he had seen a lot in his nineteen years in this world and had had time to observe the odd courting rites of man and maid in all of their baffling complexity. Certainly he'd never initiated the circuitous dance of romance, he had other things to concentrate his energy on, but he wasn't oblivious to what went on between men and women. He was aware of a thing called chemistry as well... up until this point he'd dismissed it and its effects as mostly exaggeration. He was now perfectly aware that it wasn't.
Seizing the bull by the horns (so to speak) Trowa concentrated his thoughts and energy on trying to clear the hook from its eye inside of his mouth using only his teeth and tongue. For some reason the skin of Midii that rested beneath his cheek flushed a light pink in color and heated slightly. Oh, she could be embarrassed after all. That was good to know.
<Almost got it,> he thought absently as he started counting backwards for a hundred in his head. He'd heard that worked too, but it wasn't working. He could smell her scent (it was hard not to) like vanilla and jasmine and even as he cleared the stupid metal hook from its loop he was all too conscious of the soft smoothness of her skin pressed to his forehead. The second hook took less time than the first one had, as Trowa had worked out a bit of the mechanics involved in the process. By the third hook he'd worked out a system. The remaining two should be no trouble.
"I think that's loose enough," Midii said suddenly, breaking his concentration. He squelched the insidious inner part of him that made a disappointed noise. This was not the time... and most certainly not the place. His mind briefly tried to work out the mechanics of that particular image, but gave it up as a lost cause... even if he were so inclined (and he wasn't) he wasn't sure he could work his way around all of the chains and counterwieghts and possibility of gory demise hanging over their heads, not to mention the increased biological difficulty of blood and gravity and the anatomical difficulties as well. He quickly banished the disturbing thoughts from is mind and concentrated on his task of removing the underwire.
"Are you sure about this?" he muttered as he tried to work the damned underwire out from its lining inside her bra. "I don't think it's designed to pop out this way."
"Don't worry, it'll slide out," she assured him. "Just work on it a little."
(In the other room the three unwilling listeners sounded even more amused and/or embarrassed.)
"I think it's coming loose," he said after a few more minutes. He tugged a bit more, extracting the thin wire all the way out of it’s lining and said aloud. "Is it supposed to be this way? It's not changing shape."
"It's not designed to," she replied.
(Hilde looked a trifle surprised, she hadn't known Trowa was so inexperienced... He had been a soldier all of his life, she would have thought he'd have picked up a few things. Duo certainly had.)
"We're going to have to change positions," Trowa said after a moments contemplation.
"I think I can bend backwards if you need me to," Midii replied helpfully.
(Duo's eyes popped open at that one. "Good Lord," he muttered.)
"That shouldn't be necessary," he said trying to work out a way to get his hands free. He struck upon a possible solution. "If I give it to you, do you think you can reach the belt at my waist?"
"Use it with my mouth you mean?" She inquired trying to work out the solution based on their relative positions. "You'll have to move your leg a bit, but yes, I think so. My abdominal muscles are going to be sore in the morning."
(Duo sniggered.)
As usual Trowa didn't comment but instead transferred their impromptu lockpick from his mouth to hers. They squirmed around each other a bit. Trowa felt that she was entirely too good at maneuvering for his sanity in this instance, he was just glad that their new relative positions wouldn't clue her in to how confining his pants were becoming.
Midii examined the lock at his waist and looked up at him to say.
"I don't know if it's going to fit into this little hole. It might be too big."
(Hilde grinned and Quatre had nearly passed out from the rush of blood staining his cheeks tomato red with embarrasment).
"We won't know unless it's tried," he replied. Midii shrugged and Trowa closed his eyes and started reveiwing the systems schematics of Gundam Heavyarms in his head to get his mind away from the rather dangerous territory it had stayed into with her innocuous ripple against his body. After a few minutes, she said around teeth clenched around the bra wire,
"It's a tight fit but I can work with it. Just hold still and I'll release you."
("I've never heard it put quite that way before," Duo muttered in an undertone to Hilde.)
After a few minutes of careful maneuverings with the wire she worked the lock open and the waist/wrist cuffs fell away to the floor. Trowa gratefully massaged his wrists and shook out his cramped arms as Midii straightened herself out from her previously straining position at Trowa's waist. Trowa made quick work of the lock at Midii's waist using the wire from her bra and his dexterous fingers. As soon as Midii was free she refastened her bra and zipped up her top. Trowa had to restrain himself from saying "Hey! I worked hard to unfasten those!" It would be bad for his concentration if she'd left them unfastened anyway.
He was able to ease some of the tension on his one hung leg by holding onto her now that his arms were free. In a state of semi-exhaustion they discussed their next move.
"If there's a way in there has to be a way out," she said softly, maintaining a backbend while fighting gravity for five minutes had taken a lot out of her.
"Do you need to rest?" Trowa inquired in an equally soft tone, she looked pretty tired. Midii nodded her head.
"Just for a minute."
Trowa continued holding her dangling upside down while and used the time while she rested to examine the room about him, trying to work out a way to get them out of there. After a moment or two of resting her head wearily against him she raised her head and Midii spoke softly to him
"If I had a little more line I could swing over to the window, unhook myself, and secure my end of the line to one of the bars on the window. That would take care of my end of the slack then you could try using the line going across the ceiling as a bridge to cross over to the window. I’m sure with two of us working on it we could get one of the bars loose."
"That still wouldn't make up for my slack," he argued quietly, secretly enjoying the feel of his arms wrapped securely around her being the only thing keeping her close to him against the pull of Midii's chain trying to return her to her original place.
"How so?" she asked back.
"Even if your end of the line is secured with the window, if I climb up my end of the chain past the pulley, the tightrope will bow in the middle without something securing it and holding it taut at both ends. There is no window on my side of the cell to secure it with and I am the only counterweight. Also, there is no guarantee that even if we both made it over to the window that we would be able to use it to escape."
"Hmm," she said consideringly, trying to work around the problem. "Well what if we tried the door over on your side of the room?" Midii asked, pointing.
It was securely shut, but Trowa noted that the peeping pane was large enough for them to slip through with ease and flimsy enough to be broken with one punch.
"That might work, but it would leave you stranded on the other side of the room,” Trowa said after a moments consideration. “If I managed to unhook myself and land on the platform, my lack of weight on my end would cause you to fall. Likewise if you tried to do the same on your end with the window.”
"Sounds like we need a longer chain," she said glumly.
A glimmer of an idea flashed before his eyes.
"Yes, that's exactly what we need," he siad musingly, calculating distances and trajactories in his head. After a moment he decided the plot was doable.
"You sound like you have an idea," she said.
"You said you had training in gymnastics and the cat-burglary field of espionage?" he inquired instead.
"Yes, the Space pirates always gave me the jobs that involved James Bond Mission Impossible type stuff."
"How’s your timing?" he asked next.
"An excellent sense of timing is required to survive in that field," she replied, a little primly. She'd prided herself on being one of the best, naturally.
"Good. Have you ever seen a trapeze act?"
"You mean like... Like in the circus? Like where they do that swinging and grabbing stuff?"
"Yes."
"Once or twice,” she answered, as she began to catch on to what he was getting at. “But I’ve always worked alone on all of my missions, and stuff like that requires trust and timing."
"I can climb up my own end of the chain to the pulley and feed in the slack to lengthen your end of the chain so that you can swing over to the window and secure your end of the line. Once you’re over on the window, let go of your extra slack so that my end of the chain is lengthened. In order for you to make it over to this side of the room I will swing over towards the window; once I'm at the apex of my swing to you, you'll have to jump out and I'll catch your wrists," he said.
"What if you miss?" she objected.
Trowa inclined his head towards the spikes jutting up above their heads.
"The ultimate in working without a net," Midii said with dry irony. "Not only do you run the risk of a bad sprain or a broken bone but here you could be killed in a rather nasty and painful way."
"I won't let you fall. I do this sort of thing for a living."
"You repair shuttles, rescue damsels, unhook bras with your tongue, perform death defying trapeze acts with people you barely know... is there anything you don't do?"
Trowa wasn't certain how to respond to that so he just looked at her with his deadpan look and continued with the final part of the plan.
“Once I have you by the wrists, I’m going to toss you at the platform, then unhook my legs and jump over myself. I’ll need you to catch me.”
“That demonstrates an awful lot of trust in me Trowa… and I’m not the most trustworthy person as you know.”
<There she goes, trying to act obnoxious again,> he thought. He thought she would have realized by now that he had already figured her out! She only acted obnoxious when she wanted to push someone away emotionally.
“You don’t need to be afraid,” he told her. “It’s just like jumping rope, or so I’ve heard.”
“So you’ve heard? I thought you just said you do this for a living,” she argued.
“I live and work in a circus, but my sister and I do knife throwing, high wire, and an act with the lion. It’s not on the trapeze per se but I’m familiar enough with it. Besides, we both know the basics, all we have to do is work together.”
“I’ve never had a partner before,” she said. She was acting obnoxious, but her could feel that her body was very tense. She was afraid.
“You can trust me,” he assured her. “I won’t let you fall.”
“Well, what choice do we have really,” she said resignedly. Perhaps not the ringing endorsement that was going to reassure him but he knew a bluster when he saw one. She was still afraid but willing to work with him and perhaps trust him. It would have to be enough.
He let her go and started climbing his chain up to the pulley. Once there he grasped the pulley itself and transferd his weight to it then started to lower Midii slowly toward the floor. He stopped when the tops of the spikes were a few inches from the top of her head and Midii started swinging. It took her a few tries but she gained enough height to grab hold of one of the bars on the window. She used the hook on the end of the chain to secure the chain to one of the bars.
“All clear,” she told him. Trowa lowered himself back down his part of the chain to hang upside down once more and started swinging, gaining height and momentum. In a matter of moments he was swinging hard enough to reach the middle of the room.
“That’s as far as this thing will reach. You’re going to have to jump out to me,” he said. Midii swallowed and looked dubious.
“You’re too far,” she argued.
“You can do it,” he encouraged.
“Of course I can,” she said, obviously torn between fear of trusting him to catch her and professional pride. She took on a resolved expression and braced herself against the side. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Good,” he said, pleased. “On three then.” She nodded.
The count was given and she leapt. The grab wasn’t exactly a smooth one but he managed to keep hold of her with both hands while she tried to regain her balance. It really wasn’t as easy as the trapeze artists made it look; for one thing his ankle really hurt, and the rest of him felt like it was being stretched like taffy. Now he knew why the rack was such a horrible torture device. They regained their momentum and Midii told him to let her go. He released and she went sailing lightly through the air to crash into the door on its little ledge. She grabbed hold of the handle to steadt herself and turned to look back at him. Trowa busied himself with unlocking his foot, then he flipped himself right wise and swung over to Midii. She caught his wrist and steadied him while he peeked out of the clear pane of glass set into the access door.
“Oh great,” he muttered crankily.
“What?” she asked.
“Another room,” he replied. “This one has my friends in it, as well as another puzzle to work out.”
“Look at it this way, it better than walking the plank. They could have just shoved us out from the air lock,” Midii pointed out.
“I feel so much better about it now,” he said dourly as he
punched through the glass and picked the lock on the other side of the door. “At
least this room has a proper floor.”
* * *
End Chapter 2