“Well, excuse me, but we are kind of running out of fucking time!”
“I know that! But it’s looking like we are going to have to go in blind.”
“Great…just great. Unknown assailants, with my precious gummy bear somewhere on the ship.” Severo groaned. “Well, I mean…at least she should be safely tucked away somewhere, right?”
He winced.
The Dweller’s eyes narrowed, as he more forcefully this time said, “Right?!”
“Did I…never mention…that in my, um…death vision of Killian…he was definitely not in a holding cell, and I’m thinking he may be…likely within the next fifty minutes or so…going to escape?”
“HE WHAT?!”
Killian remained completelycalm and silent, not daring to act in any way out of the ordinary, to avoid attracting the attention of the guard whose back was currently turned away from them. The man was in fact stupidly sitting in a chair, looking towards the outer door, as if that was the threat, and where he should be watching. He supposed him being poorly trained was a good thing for all of them locked in there.
A wave of relief hit Killian at the first sight of the little girl’s shadow stretching forward towards the door. As Skya tensed, he could tell she was fighting with all her might to control and bend powers she didn’t understand, to do something that he wasn’t entirely sure she could…which was disable the electric lock mechanism on the cell door. Electronic or not, there was still something physical in the lock that could be disengaged manually…hopefully.
The others around him seemed to tense, holding their breath. They knew what was coming, as he’d warned them, if only to stop them from accidentally alerting their captors.
Killian had to stop the laugh that tried to bubble up when he heard the lock disengaged—the guard none the wiser. With a bright smile on his face, he slowly sat Skya down and stood, ruffling her hair, as he mouthed ‘good job’. The Nymph gave him a watery smile back.
He closed his eyes briefly, miming covering his ears and closing his eyes to the children that were crowded behind him. One by one, the thirty-seven little ones, including Skya, closed their eyes and covered their ears.
Ah, such good listeners! Not a single drop of Siren powers were needed. Not that he could have used them right now. The kids were honestly easier to deal with than adults, and they were all getting cookies after this…as soon as he could find some.
Turning, Killian went to the cell door. With his left hand wrapped around the light indicator that was now green, which would alert the guard to the door being unlocked, he called out, “Hey, fuckface!”
The guard flinched at his words, looking back, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell did you just call me?!”
Despite having their ears covered, they obviously had heard him well enough, as some of the children behind him giggled nervously, including Skya. He was so going to get in trouble for the language he’d used here… Oh well, he could just blame the traffickers!
Smirking slyly, he met the Cryptid’s gaze. “I'm pretty sure I enunciated clearly enough not to repeat myself.”
The guard stood, and like all of the men he’d seen on board, aside from Riker, he was bulky, and at least six foot, which made him about an inch taller than Killian. Sauntering over, with ascowl on his face, the fool had not even thought to pull out his weapon.
“What in the hell do—” The man’s words cut off on a muffled yelp as, in quick succession, Killian grabbed onto the man’s lower jaw and yanked him forward, shoving the door with his other hand into the guard’s head, only narrowly missing crushing his own hand.
Killian slammed the door into the man three more times, each time with more force, and with the help of the other prisoners surging forward and adding their weight to the equation, the last hit ended with a resounding crunch as the guard’s skull fractured, blood spurting out and dripping down the bars. The idiot hadn’t even had time to fight back, and as Killian released the man, who dropped like a log, he frankly didn’t care if he lived or not. Based on his fading heartbeat, it was likely not.
Shoving the soon to be dead body out of the way, as he forced the door fully open, Killian hurried toward the guard. Pulling the bastard’s shirt up to hide the gore from the children, he stole the Cryptid’s gun, tucking it into his pocket, before trying the guard’s thumbprint on the locks for his cuffs and collar.
While the cuffs on his wrists and ankles came off, he growled in frustration when his collar remained in place. It just meant someone else was the key to opening it. He wasn’t sure if the chains were configured to allow any trafficker to open them, but this confirmed that at least some of them were individualized.
Well, at least Killian could still do some stuff, he supposed. It was not like space was even an ideal environment for the grander bulk of his abilities anyway. The lack of an atmosphere kind of got in the way. However, he couldn’t use the full power of his voice with the collar still on.
Standing, Killian stepped back, letting the others get through to attempt to free themselves. Pulling the gun out, he smirked ashe met the hopeful gazes of the newly-freed captives, who were standing behind waiting, along with those of the children that were now staring up at him and listening. “Up for taking over this bucket of bolts?”
Ender floated forward, directing himself with the controls of the boosters on his boots and back. The line connecting him to his own ship, and his spacesuit, would hopefully remain as invisible as their ship currently was. It should, as it was definitely one of the things they kept up to date, even when other less important parts of their ship became obsolete with the new technology coming out.
He eyed the trafficker’s ship, as he slowly approached. To be honest, Ender wasn’t that impressed. It was pretty generic. Even if it was more than twice the size, and likely a few years newer, the model was similar to theirs in that it was donut-shaped with a raised central bridge.
The shape was where the similarities ended. Red Herring was custom painted on the outside, looking like it was covered in dark-red feathers of various tones, mimicking the colors of his precious, and long dead, first chicken, Red Herring. A chicken he’d named after a character from the cartoonA Pup Named Scooby Doo.
The trafficker’s craft, however, was black with a silver stripe, and aside from having the name of the ship,Brick Bond,written in silver on the side, it likely looked the same as when it had been bought. And Ender knew, thanks to the blueprints and hand-drawn map that Calico’s inside spy had provided, that they had in fact not upgraded or changed a damn thing, aside from the second cargo hold, which they’d turned into a large prison cell.
The ship, and much of what was on it, was definitely not the latest and greatest, and it all basically just spoke on how much of a cheapskate Riker was. Like, yeah, Cryptid Means may have skimped on the room layouts, but aside from his own, he knew those who regularly stayed on Red Herring had fully customized their quarters. And most of the other common areas, cell and more, didn’t look a thing like how it used to, while Riker’s ship was just an old, off the rack piece of crap.
Whatever, it was good for them. It meant the blueprints were fully accessible, and the map would pick up whatever was missed.
