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malarkay · 1 year

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Inside the Wire Chapter 10

Summary: During their final battle with the Storm Hawks, Cyclonis is stopped just short of destroying the Dark Ace. Victory, however, eludes them. With Cyclonia fallen, and escape to the Farside cut off, they're forced to confront the consequences of their actions.

It had been a month since she and Dark Ace had arrived at Zartacla. Every day, Mr. Moss found a reason to punish at least one of them for some infraction, real or imagined, using it as an excuse to keep them all on lockdown. It was usually her, though Snipe wasn’t an infrequent target, either. Even Ace and Ravess had drawn his ire a few times, as tempers were boiling over more frequently the longer they were forced to live like this. They had nothing but Mr. Moss’ tasks to occupy their time with and were only let out of their cells for half an hour every other day to shower. It was wearing on them all.

It had been a relief when, the week before, the Storm Hawks had come for another checkup. Both Aerrow and Piper seemed a bit bewildered by her willingness to be genuinely civil toward them, but she deflected when Piper asked her about it outright. She wasn’t about to admit that she was happy to see them, if only because it allowed her to stretch her legs and interact face-to-face with people who weren’t actively trying to humiliate her. How pathetic would that sound?

Speaking of humiliation, she was currently standing in the common area of the cell block writing, ‘I must not mock or insult Mr. Moss’ a thousand times on a large chalkboard he had brought up.

At first, she wondered how he found out about that transgression. She had voiced some harsh opinions about him while venting her frustrations to Ace the night before, but not before peering out of the slot in her door to confirm that there were no guards around. But now, after enduring hours of Ravess’ mockery at her current predicament, she could make a fairly educated guess about who had ratted her out.

The combination of being given a child’s punishment, Ravess’ barbs, and the cramping in her hand and arm put her in an even worse mood than usual. So when, with her just one line away from completing her task, Mr. Moss dragged an eraser diagonally from one end of the chalkboard to the other and declared that her last twenty-five lines were illegible and would have to be redone, she couldn’t stop an angry tear from falling.

She tried to dash it away before he saw it, but wasn’t fast enough.

“Well, what d’you know, looks like all the lessons might finally be sinking in,” he chuckled, throwing the eraser at her. “Erase that mess and redo it, then get back in your cell,” he said before raising his voice so the others would hear. “Lockdown ends tomorrow. Don’t make me regret it.”

~*~*~

Cyclonis expected Mr. Moss to go back on his word this morning, to mess with them, and for the lockdown to continue indefinitely. So she was surprised when the guards had them line up outside their cells instead.

It was her first time seeing Ravess and Snipe fully since their arrival. Their jumpsuits were a lighter red than the maroon she and Ace wore, and she realized she didn’t know how long a sentence they had been given. Based on the colour coding, she assumed they had managed to avoid life imprisonment, at least.

Snipe, while still broad, looked a little slimmer than when she had last seen him, his hair trimmed similarly to Ace’s. Ravess looked much the same as she always did, though her gaze unsurprisingly lacked the obsequence she was used to seeing from her when their eyes met.

Their name tapes read S. Fortier and R. Fortier, respectively. House Fortier was one of the oldest and most influential noble families in the Empire. Ravess and Snipe were a discredit to the name. All the anger she had felt towards them when she banished them was getting stirred up at the sight of them. She should have been able to count on them, yet they had failed her time and time again. They were emblematic of the decay within the Empire she had had to fight against nearly as much as she had had to fight the Free Atmos, and it made her sick just looking at them.

“If you pick a fight with Ravess and get us locked down again, I will have some choice words for you,” Ace told her, his tone only half joking.

“I’m not going to,” she snapped at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You were staring at her so hard; she’s lucky she wasn’t vaporized on the spot.”

“Eyes forward, no talking,” the guard added.

When they had complied, the guard escorted them to the cafeteria.

A few dozen inmates, all in the same shade of red as Ravess and Snipe, were already there. Some were seated, having already gotten their breakfast, while others were still getting food from a long counter that separated the dining area from the kitchen. Half a dozen other inmates, all dressed in green, were working behind the counter, dishing up the meals.

The room got quiet when they entered. They were the center of attention, although everyone tried not to blatantly stare. At least until one of the guards gave a sharp whistle and ordered everyone to mind their business. That didn’t stop the glances entirely, but the noise level in the room did go back to a low buzz, and they were ushered forward to get into the breakfast line.

Trays, plates, and cutlery were stationed at the end of the counter, free for the taking. Complete sets of actual metal cutlery! She hadn’t had access to more than a spoon since her first day on Atmosia. Acting on impulse, she grabbed a second knife along with the rest of her utensils, slipping it into her pocket as she took a tray and plate and continued down the line.

She worried for a moment that someone had seen and would call her out, but Snipe proved himself useful as an unwitting distraction. As soon as they got in line he loudly began talking about what he hoped was being served, and as they went down the line, he kept demanding double or even triple portions of every item. The cafeteria workers and nearest guards had their hands full, explaining to him that he was only allowed single portions.

She and Dark Ace made their way to an empty table. She had noticed people sitting at it when they came in, but it had conspicuously been wiped down and vacated by the time they made it through the line. At least some people still knew how to show respect for their betters. Sitting, she draped her napkin across her lap, slipping the knife out of her pocket as she did so and tucking it into her sock.

While a table knife was useless as a weapon, it could potentially pry the leecher crystals free from their cuffs. She and Ace could be out of here in less than 24 hours.

“What are you smiling about?” Ravess asked suspiciously as she took a seat across from her.

“What makes you think you can sit here?” she shot back, scowling at her.

“I’ll sit wherever I please, you little-“

“Everyone here’s so mean!” Snipe whined as he dropped onto the bench next to Ravess. “No one cares that Snipe’s gonna starve to death!”

He reached over to steal food off Ravess’ plate but hastily snatched his hand back when she tried to stab him with her fork.

“Even Snipe’s sister doesn’t care that he’s gonna starve to death!” he complained.

“Here,” she said, pushing her tray across the table to him.

Ace made a disgruntled noise and pulled her tray back toward her.

“Thank you, Ma-aww, no takebacks!” Snipe pounded his fist on the table and glared at Ace, but backed down when Ace glared right back at him.

“Now I know you’re up to something,” Ravess said.

“You’re right, I am. I’m trying to shut Snipe up. His incessant whining is giving me a headache.”

“You need to eat,” Ace said between bites of his breakfast.

“I need quiet more than I need whatever this is,” she said.

“It’s food,” Snipe supplied helpfully.

“Debatable.”

One of the guards walked up to the table. “Am I going to have to write up the four of you on your first day out of lockdown?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” she answered for them all.

“Good. I hate paperwork. So, to keep us all happy, I’ll remind everyone of the mess hall rules. No sharing food. No stealing food. No violence. Got it?”

They nodded, and the guard moved on.

Everyone ate in silence after his departure, allowing her to fantasize about disabling the leecher cuffs in peace. If she couldn’t use the knife to pry the crystals free, she’d move on to trying to break the locking mechanism. And if that failed, she could perhaps use the butt of the handle to shatter the crystals. She had several options and all the time in the world to try them out.

Once breakfast was over, she turned in her tray and cutlery and lined up with the others to leave the cafeteria. It was there that her little fantasy was shattered when the guards began searching every prisoner.

She glanced around her for a place to ditch the knife, but her options were limited. Dark Ace was in front of her. She could slip it into his pocket, but she wouldn’t resort to him taking the fall for her if there was another way out. Ravess was behind her, but it would be impossible to plant the knife on her without her noticing.

Her only real option was to quietly hand off the knife to Ace and have him plant it in the pocket of the prisoner in front of him. She shifted to see who that was and recognized him as…well, she couldn’t remember his name, but she knew his face. The commander with the scar. Perfect. He’d do nicely.

But before she could put her plan into action, a guard appeared at her side. Some guards had started their search at the back of the line to speed things along. She hadn’t noticed. The guard ordered her to hold her arms out to her sides and began his pat down. She held her breath as he got closer to discovering the knife, only to let it out when, with only the briefest hesitation when he first felt the metal, he smoothly took the knife away from her and slipped it up his sleeve.

Straightening back up, he bent closer to her as he ostensibly double-checked her sleeves. “Do you know what Mr. Moss would do to you if you were caught with a weapon, Master?” he asked lowly.

“Am I about to find out?” she asked, just as quietly.

“Not today.”

She glanced over at her unexpected saviour, memorizing his face and name. Officer H. Martlet.

“Some of us are still loyal, but we can only help you so much. This can’t happen again. We-“

“Count’s off! One knife’s missing!” called one of the cafeteria workers behind them.

“Alright, inmates, hands on your heads. Nobody moves, nobody talks,” shouted the guard who had spoken to them earlier. “Front of the room guards, continue your search of the prisoners. Back of the room guards search the tables. Nobody leaves this mess hall until that knife turns up.”

Martlet cocked an eyebrow at her as if to say, ‘See?’

He went off with the others to search the cafeteria, and after a tense few minutes, he ‘discovered’ the knife on the floor under one of the tables.

“Found it!” he called, holding it up. “One of these no ‘counts must’ve dropped it.” He returned the knife to the cafeteria workers.

The guard who had taken charge nodded. “Repeat your count,” he ordered the workers. “Inmates, you are responsible for returning all cutlery at the end of every meal. If you drop something, pick it up. If this happens again, you’re all getting smoked. Including you!” he said, pointing to the cafeteria workers.

“Boss, that ain’t fair!” one of them protested.

“It is when it’s your job to make sure everyone turns everything back in.”

“But everyone did turn everything back in!”

The guard scoffed. “I’m sick of your whining, McNair. Next time you open your mouth, you’re off this cushy detail, and we’ll have you digging ditches outside the wall. How’s that sound?”

McNair snapped his mouth shut and shook his head.

“Thought so. All clear?”

“Yeah, the count’s good,” another worker announced.

“Excellent. Everyone back to your housing units!”

~*~*~

The next several months passed uneventfully as they settled into a routine. Wake up, attend morning count, go to breakfast, back to their cells until lunch. After lunch, they went out to the yard, which for them was the flat, razor-wire-enclosed rooftop of the prison. After an hour outside, they had time to shower or do laundry; then it was back to the cells until dinner. After dinner, their cell doors remained unlocked for an hour, and they could spend time in the cell block’s common area if they wanted. Then it was time for the evening count before being locked in for the night.

Every two weeks, Piper and Aerrow would visit. Their conversations, for the most part, remained cooly polite. After a few visits, Piper began to talk about some of the projects she was working on and the problems she was running into. When it became clear that she wouldn’t volunteer to brainstorm solutions with her, Piper became more direct.

“So?”

“Don’t be a jerk; you know what I’m asking. What do you think?“

“I think you were already given a chance to work with me, and you threw the offer back in my face. Why should I help you now?”

“You wanted me to help you conquer the world. You can’t compare that to what I’m asking.”

She shrugged.

“Aren’t you bored in here? If I were you, I’d jump at the chance to do something useful.”

Did Piper think she could dangle a puzzle in front of her face and expect her to trip over herself to solve it? That was just irritating.

“Bored? Not at all. I’ve found being here to be a welcome change of pace. It’s relaxing.”

Piper scoffed. “You’re such a liar!”

She just smirked at her.

“You’re not going to help me?“

“No.”

Despite her rejection, Piper kept regaling her with tales of what she was working on at their next visit, and the one after that, and the one after that. Sometimes she would try to get her to help her with a problem. Sometimes she wouldn’t. As time passed, it got harder to say no to those requests. There was something almost charming about how Piper spoke about her projects, an infectious enthusiasm that was difficult to avoid getting swept up in.

“I have a problem,” Piper told her towards the end of one of their visits.

“You have five of them,” she agreed. “I tried to get rid of them for you. Sadly, I was unsuccessful.”

“Keep it up,” Piper said with false brightness. “One of these days, jokes about trying to kill my friends might actually be funny.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Well, it’s a little embarrassing,” Piper hedged.

That made her grin and sit forward, resting her forearms on the table. “Ohhh, so it’s a personal problem. Why didn’t you say so? Should Aerrow wait outside?”

“No, he can stay. The problem is Finn. He keeps breaking into my diary to read it.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. “You keep a diary?” she snickered.

“What’s so funny about that?” Piper asked with an offended edge to her voice.

“It just seems so frivolous.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us have a giant stick up our-“

“Erm, what Piper is trying to say is that we’ve tried a million things to get him to stop, and nothing’s worked,” Aerrow spoke up.

“Can’t you just get a lock for it?”

“It’s not a physical book. I record it on a memory crystal. I tried hiding it in a locked box, but he still managed to get to it.”

“Well then, just imprint yourself on the crystal.”

“What do you mean, imprint on the crystal?”

She smiled. One of the rarer features of a memory crystal was its ability to be keyed to a specific person, rendering it nothing more than a shiny rock to anyone else trying to access its contents. She felt a certain amount of vindication at the fact that Piper seemed unaware of that little bit of trivia. For a moment, she considered keeping the mechanics behind it to herself. But the blond Storm Hawk was the most obnoxious of the bunch, and she sympathized with Piper’s desire to protect her innermost thoughts from his prying eyes. So she taught her how to lock a memory crystal and the kind of keys that she could use to unlock it. Something unique to her, like fingerprints.

“But it would be too easy to lift a fingerprint off something I’ve touched and use it to unlock the crystal. Aren’t there other things the crystal can use as a key? Something more secure?”

“Sure, but I’m not going to do all your thinking for you. You’ll figure something out.”

Piper nodded slowly before smiling. “This has been helpful. Thank you.”

She shrugged off the thanks, glancing over to the guard by the door, who tapped his watch when he saw her looking.

“Looks like we’re out of time,” she said, standing. The other two stood as well; then Piper surprised her by coming around to her side of the table and throwing her arms around her.

She stood awkwardly frozen to the spot for the duration of the hug, arms stiff at her sides. “Thanks again,” Piper said before stepping away when the guard reminded her that she wasn’t supposed to do that.

“Okay,” she said, the only words her stupid brain was offering up at the moment.

“I’ll let you know if it works at our next meeting!”

~*~*~

The walk back to the Condor was short but awkward. At least for him. Piper walked along with a spring in her step and a grin on her face, acting like everything was perfectly normal.

“So,” he said slowly once they were back onboard. “What the heck was that?”

“What?” Piper asked, glancing over at him curiously.

“The hug?”

“Oh!” She stopped and held her hand up, thumb and pointer finger pinched together, smiling triumphantly.

“Huh?”

“The key! Or, well, the key to the key. Probably. Maybe. I think, anyway.”

He looked closer, realizing she was holding up a strand of hair.

“She said it had to be something unique to a person. Well, what could be more unique?”

“Than hair?” he asked skeptically.

She rolled her eyes. “Think about it.”

“DNA?” he asked after a moment’s thought.

“Yep!”

He grinned, feeling his shoulders relax. “That was quick thinking. There wasn’t a less awkward way to get that, though?”

“Anything else would have made what I was doing too obvious. Anyway, why do you look so relieved? You weren’t jealous, were you?” she teased.

He laughed. “Jealous? Nah.” Of his best friend hugging their mutual worst enemy? Of course not!

Grinning, she held out her arms, and he gladly stepped into her embrace, hugging her back. They stayed locked together for a long moment until Piper joked, “Good. Besides, you’re a much better hugger.”

They continued walking until they got to her room.

“So how does this work? Do you wave the hair in front of the memory crystal and hope it recognizes it?”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that simple,” she said, opening her door and rummaging through her things until she came across Cyclonis’ memory crystal. Despite her words, she tried what he suggested. Nothing happened. Nothing happened when she tried brushing the hair against the crystal, either.

“What I’m probably going to have to do is find a way to amplify her DNA within some sort of crystalline simulacrum that I can use to trick the memory crystal into thinking she’s the one trying to activate it.”

“Just don’t accidentally clone her or something. One Cyclonis is more than enough,” he told her with a smirk.

~*~*~

Within a few months, Cyclonis had compiled a comprehensive list of the guards on her side. If she was going to escape from this place, she would need their cooperation. In the meantime, they were proving themselves valuable in other ways.

When one of them was on shift, life was a little bit easier. Extra food would find its way into her pocket after dinner during the search, an apple or an orange or an extra bread roll. The hot water would last through an entire shower instead of ‘running out’ halfway through or not working at all. As winter approached, she found an extra blanket stashed in her footlocker. Terra Zartacla wasn’t known for its cold. There hadn’t been any snowfall recorded in nearly thirty years. But overnight temperatures during the winter could fall to near freezing, and not much effort was put into heating and cooling the prison. Not in the cellblocks, anyway.

Their loyalty would not go unrewarded. Once she found a way out of this place and reclaimed her throne, they could look forward to generous promotions and their choice of assignments. The only problem was that she hadn’t found a way out yet.

“-eat it this way, instead of this way, and you can eat the whole thing! Hey, is anyone listening? This is important!”

She looked up from her bowl of the shockingly bland soup the kitchen staff called chilli, and Snipe’s face brightened at finally having someone’s attention.

“Master, watch! I invented a way to eat the whole apple,” he said excitedly, chomping down on his apple from the top, biting clean through the core.

“Game changer,” she deadpanned.

“Mmm-hmm!” Snipe agreed as he chewed.

“And stop calling me that. You remember what happened last time.”

Mr. Moss had caught wind of Snipe’s bad habit of addressing her by her old title and had locked him down in his cell for three days. And then he had turned around and locked her down, too, for allowing it. As an extra turn of the screw, he’d reduced their rations to bread and water for the duration. It hadn’t been her favourite way to spend a long weekend.

Snipe frowned at the reminder. Setting down his apple, he removed his piece of cornbread from its foil wrapping and fashioned the foil into a hat, setting it on his head. Ace rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping the guards from reading my mind.”

“I wasn’t aware there was anything to read,” Ravess smirked at him.

“How do they know what we say when they aren't around, then?”

She glanced at Ravess from the corner of her eye, wondering how Snipe could be thick enough not to realize that his sister was a snitch. She wasn’t sure what she was getting out of her role of informant, whether there was some material gain involved or if she was doing it for her own amusement. It didn’t really matter. All they could do about it was watch what they said around her, something she and Ace were already doing. At least Snipe was finally starting to ask the right questions, even if he was coming to wildly incorrect conclusions. He’d figure out the truth eventually.

“They can’t read your mind, Snipe. And even if they could, that hat won’t stop them. Take it off,” she told him.

“No, foil stops the rays from getting through! Everyone knows that!”

“For that to work, you’d need to have your entire head encased in the foil. Your hat that…”

She knew how to get out of here!

She fought to keep from smiling and continued, hoping Ravess didn’t notice anything strange about the brief mid-sentence pause.

“-that doesn’t even fit right isn’t doing anything.”

Pouting, Snipe took the foil hat off his head and threw it down on the table. They continued their meal with no more talk of mind reading or foil hats. She scoped out the cafeteria as she ate and noticed two of her favourite guards were on duty, including Martlet. Perfect.

At the end of the meal, she began collecting everyone’s trays, stacking them on top of one another.

“What are you doing?” Ravess asked, eyes narrowing.

“Helping.”

Ravess laughed. “No, really.”

“Really. I’ve got this. The rest of you can go line up.”

Before Ravess could protest further, Ace put a hand on her shoulder and started steering her toward the line.

She took the trays over to the trash. A quick scan of the room showed the guards otherwise occupied and Ravess saying something to Martlet, not even being subtle about it. Too bad for Ravess, she chose the wrong guard, and she would win this round because of it. Quickly, she shoved all the foil she had collected at the table into her pocket, tossed the napkins, turned everything else in to the kitchen staff, then got in line.

Predictably, Martlet came up to her immediately for a pat down.

“Got reasonable suspicion to believe you’ve got contraband on you,” he said, loudly enough for the next nearest guard and every prisoner in between to hear. “Hands on your head!”

He was rough with his search, but he had to put on a convincing show.

“Huh,” he scoffed, stepping back once he was done, empty-handed. He shook his head and told his fellow guard, “False alarm.”

Once back in her cell for the night, she carefully smoothed out her pieces of foil, inspecting each one to ensure they were all intact. Then she hid them at the bottom of her footlocker and laid down, running calculations in her head until she fell asleep.

~*~*~

It was done.

Piper held her newest creation up to the light. It was a cloudy white crystal the size of her fist, and if she was correct, it would allow her to access the information stored on Cyclonis’ memory crystal.

The moment of truth finally here, she eagerly retrieved the memory crystal, setting it atop her workbench. Bringing the new crystal closer, she activated it. A white glow surrounded it, and after a moment, an answering light surrounded the memory crystal as it flared to life.

“Yes!”

She punched the air as the memory crystal projected a holographic image of the first bit of information stored within it. But her enthusiasm was dampened when she looked at what was in front of her.

“Wha-?”

Where she had expected to see schematics of a weapon to rival the Storm Engine, or pages of arcane knowledge on crystal magic, or even the most closely guarded state secrets of Cyclonia, there was a photograph instead.

“No way.”

She cycled through the rest of what was on the crystal, confident she’d find what she had expected hidden somewhere.

“There’s just no way!”

It was all photographs! Cyclonis had hunted them down, ripped a hole in their ship, trounced 5/6ths of the team, and almost got herself captured, and for what? To fix a broken photo album?

She scrolled back to the first photo, just in case she had missed something. She hadn’t.

“She’s insane!”

There was a knock on her door. “Uhh, you okay in there?” Finn’s voice asked.

She opened the door. “I’m flabbergasted,” she told him.

“Oh. I bet Stork has something you can take for that.”

She shook her head with a laugh.

“What’s that?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before coming into her room and looking at the picture floating above her workstation. He made a face, recoiling slightly. “She seems nice,” he joked. Then, “Is that Cyclonis?”

Piper realized she hadn’t paid much attention to the pictures in her search. She looked now, at a small Cyclonis clutching Atmos’ creepiest-looking doll, then up at the woman who accompanied her. A chill went up her spine as she met the hard, pitiless stare of Cyclonis’ predecessor. The woman didn’t look like she had an ounce of warmth or kindness in her body. This was who raised Cyclonis? No wonder she was so messed up.

“Yeah, it is,” she said, scrolling to the next picture.

“Aww!“ Finn laughed, and she couldn’t help but smile, too. It was another picture of a very young Cyclonis, hamming it up for the camera. She looked so much happier than in the first photo. She sat atop the shoulders of a man who looked about thirty, whose resemblance to both the woman in the first picture and Cyclonis herself was unmistakable. He had his mother’s high cheekbones and his daughter’s crooked grin.

But there was something else about him that was unsettlingly familiar. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, with a sparse smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, he looked a lot like a grown, masculine version of Cyclonis’ Lark disguise. She wondered if that had been deliberate or if she had done it subconsciously.

The following two pictures featured him, as well. The first was of him with a woman. Tall, slender, with raven hair and indigo eyes. Cyclonis’ mother. They looked happy. She frowned when she realized there were no pictures of this woman with Cyclonis. What happened to Cyclonis’ mother was not a matter of public record, at least not on Atmosia, but she could make an educated guess.

She moved on.

Cyclonis’ father was younger in the last picture to feature him, maybe twenty, sitting sideways on his Switchblade like he was waiting for someone. His hair was wind tousled, his pose and expression casually confident. He looked, she hated to admit it, very cool.

The last picture was of Cyclonis’ grandmother in her prime, standing before her throne in full imperial regalia. She looked less ice cold than in the first photo, but not by much.

She scrolled again, and it brought her back to the first photo.

“Dude, where did you get these?” Finn asked, and she started. She had forgotten he was there.

“Cyclonis’ memory crystal.”

Finn laughed. “Seriously? This is all that’s on there? Oh man, you must feel so stupid right now.”

“Gee, thanks, Finn.”

“No problem. We should show the others!”

She grabbed the crystal before he could. “I dunno about that. These seem kinda…personal?”

“Oh, come on! Now you feel bad about going through her stuff?”

“Kinda. I mean, obviously these are important to her, and she didn’t want anyone else looking at them.”

“Pfft, too late!” He snatched the crystals from her hands and ran off down the hall. Exasperated, she went after him at a slower pace. By the time she got to bridge, he was already showing off the pictures to Stork, Junko, and Radarr.

A few minutes later, Aerrow and Starling wandered in; towels slung over their shoulders and water bottles in hand. They had spent the better part of the afternoon training together.

Starling had returned to Terra Mesa after the tribunal members were released from their duties but promised to come to visit them more often. So far, she had kept that promise, coming to stay on the Condor for a few days once a month. It was nice having her around semi-regularly. It’d be nicer if she stayed full-time, but they’d take what they could get.

“Whatcha doing?” Aerrow asked.

“Looking at pictures,” Finn grinned.

“Who is that? He’s fit,” Starling said, taking a swig of water. The crystal was currently displaying the second to last picture.

Piper couldn’t help the strangled noise she made. Starling wasn’t usually one to make such comments. Whether it was because she was naturally reserved or because she considered them too young to talk that way around, she wasn’t sure. Finn’s grin grew diabolical. “Cyclonis’ dad.”

Starling choked on her water, and Aerrow pounded her on the back until the coughing subsided.

“You okay?” he asked her.

Red-faced either from the choking or embarrassment, Starling nodded. “The one time I say anything,” she muttered, mopping water off herself with her towel.

Aerrow grinned before turning his attention back to the photos. “Is this all that’s on the crystal?” he asked as he scrolled through them.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“I wish I was!”

“And you’re sure this is what she used the Nil crystal on?”

“I’m positive.”

“Huh,” he said with a hint of a smirk.

“You’re not upset?”

“Nah, I’m kinda impressed. Reckless and sentimental aren’t words I’d use to describe Cyclonis before now. Are you upset you wasted so much time on this?”

“Actually, no, I learned a lot from this project.”

“So what do we do now?” Junko asked. “Do you think she’d want this back?”

“There’s only one problem with that,” Stork pointed out. “She can’t have any crystals without-“ he gestured with his hands, simulating an explosion.

“Stork’s right. She can’t have this crystal back,” she said. But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t have the pictures.

~*~*~

Things were coming along nicely. Cyclonis had filled in the Dark Ace and Martlet about her escape plan while keeping Ravess and Snipe in the dark, and they were fully onboard.

They would choose a day when Martlet was assigned the graveyard shift in their section. He’d leave their doors unlocked at lights out, and once the others were asleep, he’d leave his post long enough for them to slip out. Getting down to the ground floor would be the trickiest part. They couldn’t hand-pick the entire staff, after all. There might be one or two who would look the other way, but they’d need to be quick and decisive in their takedown of the others. They couldn’t let them raise the alarm. And besides, they’d need uniforms.

Once dressed as guards, they’d have an easier time moving freely. Ace would go ahead to clear a path and open the gates while she stole Mr. Moss’ ride. She’d walk it to the outer gate where Ace would be waiting, they’d push it far enough out into the forest that no one would hear the engine start, and they’d fly their way to freedom before anyone even knew they were missing.

But first, she needed enough foil and plastic wrap to construct energy-blocking shields for the cuffs. That would allow her to escape on the Heliblade safely and perhaps even use her powers to a limited extent.

Martlet was helping her with that, too. Between the two of them, her collection was quickly growing. Soon she’d have enough foil to cut the leech crystals off from the outside world.

It wouldn’t be long, now.

~*~*~

“I have a confession to make,” Piper said, watching Cyclonis to gauge her reaction. They were halfway through their visit, and she had seemed unusually disengaged the entire time. Piper thought they were past this.

Maybe she was coming down with something. Winter had hit the ground running this year, and word around the prison was that the flu was spreading like wildfire across Zartacla and Seraph, a small terra about ten klicks to the east, where the guards and their families lived. Even Mr. Moss had sounded sniffly and congested when he greeted them.

“Oh?” Cyclonis asked, clearly disinterested.

She could fix that.

“I can’t make heads or tails out of this idea of yours,” she said, holding out a rough sketch torn from one of Cyclonis’ notebooks.

Cyclonis snatched the page away from her, glancing down at it and then back up at her, gaze sharp. “Where did you get this?”

“The ruins of Cyclonia.”

A pained look flit across Cyclonis’ face at the mention of Cyclonia and ruins in the same sentence but was quickly suppressed. “You’ve been down there?”

“We had to make sure there was nothing left that could be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands.”

“What a clever way to justify looting.”

“Pot, kettle.”

“Yet only one of us is behind bars for it.”

Aerrow decided to step in before things could get heated. “We’re getting off track here.”

“There was a point to this?”

“Yes,” she told her. “I thought you might be interested in finishing this. This and other projects in your notebooks. We can work together to make them a reality.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Because they’re your projects!”

“That you’ll take all the credit for? No thanks.”

“We’ll share the credit. And it’s not about that, anyway. You said you wanted to take over the Atmos to make it a better place. The plans and sketches I’ve seen? Some of those inventions could do that! If there is any truth to what you claim motivated your megalomania, now’s your chance to prove it.”

Cyclonis sneered and threw the page back towards her, but she pushed it back to her side of the table and tossed a pencil down on top of it. “Keep it. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

At first, she thought she’d refuse, but she angrily folded up the page and shoved it and the pencil into her pocket. “Happy now? Are we done?”

“Actually, I have one more thing for you. But I’m not sure you deserve it now.”

“Keep it, then. I don’t want it,” Cyclonis shot back flippantly.

“Trust me, you do,” Aerrow stepped in again.

Surprisingly, that shut Cyclonis up long enough for her to slide the envelope over to her. “You might want to handle that a little more gently than you did the other paper.”

“Is it a full pardon from the Sky Knight Council? Because if so, you should have led with that.”

“The Chairman is old, not senile,” she joked, and at least that drew a smirk from the other girl. A smirk that faded as she opened the envelope and removed the photographs within. It was replaced with the softest, tenderest expression she’d ever seen grace Cyclonis’ face. Slowly, carefully, she shuffled through the short stack of photos.

“Umm,” she began, pausing to clear her throat when it came out thicker with emotion than she probably intended. “How?” she asked, furrowing her brow as she looked back up at them.

“I might have lied about my diary troubles,” she shrugged. She could almost see all the questions taking shape behind Cyclonis’ eyes and held up a forestalling hand. “We don’t have enough time left to get into the technical details of how I managed to hack your memory crystal. Your questions will have to wait until next time.”

Cyclonis nodded, slipping the photographs back into the envelope. “Next time,” she echoed before looking over to the guard, who held up five fingers. “Although, we do have enough time for one question.”

“Sure,” she agreed.

“Why? You didn’t have to give these to me. You could have let me believe they were lost forever.”

“I could have, but that didn’t feel right.”

Cyclonis was silent for nearly a full minute. And then, in a move that shocked Piper, she quietly thanked them.

On their way back to the Condor, Aerrow looked over at her with an incredulous, “She said thank you.”

“Sometimes wonders never cease.”

~*~*~

Two days later, it was time.

Cyclonis had the materials she needed to construct her shields, and, in a stroke of good luck, half the guards assigned to Section A of the prison that night were loyalists.

The moment Martlet ‘locked’ them in for the night, she got to work.

First, she wrapped the cuffs in plastic wrap, fully insulating them before she began to encase them in layers of foil. She worked carefully to ensure that there were no gaps in coverage and that the foil layer was of sufficient thickness with no weak spots. She would feel more confident if she had something to measure with, but she didn’t. Eyeballing it would have to be good enough.

Once that was done, she retrieved the photographs Piper had given her out of her locker and tucked them into her pocket. They were the only thing in this gods-forsaken place she cared to keep. Days later, she still felt a combination of confusion and wonder when she thought of what Piper had done for her. The Storm Hawk could have chucked the crystal back into the Wastelands once she learned that it contained nothing of any use to her, and she would have been none the wiser. Instead, she had gone to the trouble of having the photos printed off and handed them over to her without asking for anything in return.

Would she have done the same thing in her place? Definitely not. It annoyed her that that realization bothered her just a little. And it bothered her even more that, despite Piper asking for nothing in return, she still felt like she owed her something. And that was how she found herself jotting down notes and equations on the page Piper had given her, working by the light that filtered into her cell from the hallway in the hours leading up to her escape. She wasn’t going to have time to finish her work on this project, far from it, but she could at least start it and trust Piper to figure out the rest.

When Martlet passed by on his rounds and gave her the nod that signalled it was almost time to make their move, she scribbled a hasty ‘For Piper’ on the top of the page, placed it atop her cot, and moved to the door in anticipation. Once she heard the main gate of the cellblock open, she counted to ten and then slowly pushed open her door. Martlet had freshly oiled the hinges to prevent any squeaking that might awaken Ravess or Snipe, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

She froze when the snoring coming from Snipe’s cell stopped abruptly, replaced by a violent coughing fit. The virus going around had hit him pretty hard. She had been studiously ignoring her headache and the tickle in her throat that had started earlier that afternoon. She never got sick, and she didn’t intend to start now.

Snipe’s cough quieted, the snoring resumed, and she slipped out of her cell, closing the door quietly behind her. Ace was already waiting for her outside his door, and together they moved silently toward the exit. Peeking out, she saw Martlet talking to another one of the guards, one who wasn’t with them. Martlet had maneuvered them so he was facing the cellblock, leaving the other guard’s back turned away from them and the stairs they needed to reach.

They made it to the stairs undetected and moved down to the second level. From here, they needed to get down the hallway to the other stairs leading to the first floor. This would be the most treacherous section of their journey, as a look toward the guard post showed that neither of the guards stationed on this floor was in on their plan.

They ducked into a supply closet and waited for the guards to make their rounds again. They didn’t have long to wait. As soon as one of the guards passed by, Ace grabbed him in a chokehold and dragged him into the closet. The guard’s struggles grew weaker and weaker until, after what felt like an eternity, he went limp. Ace waited a little longer before releasing him and letting him fall to the ground. Together they stripped him and, after pressing her fingers to his throat and feeling a pulse, bound and gagged him.

The guard was on the smaller side, so she got his uniform. It was a bit baggy on her, even with her wearing her jumpsuit underneath, but in the dark, it would come close enough to passing muster.

Twisting up her hair, she tucked it underneath the guard’s cap, then picked up his baton, which was armed with a stunner. She activated it, watching how the energy swirled within and around the crystal. Most people only saw a glow emanating from crystals, like a lightbulb. But the trained crystal mage could see the wispy strands of power that infused each crystal. It was these that they could manipulate directly, that they bent to their will. She watched for any sign of the leechers siphoning power from the stunner but saw none. With a smirk, she deactivated the crystal and nodded to Ace, then signalled for him to wait here.

Stepping out into the hall, she kept her head down as she walked toward the guard station.

“Thought you got lost,” the second guard joked as she approached. When she didn’t reply, he asked, “Aguilar? You alright, man?”

She activated the baton once she got within range of the other guard and thrust it toward his chest.

“Hey!”

He grabbed at her wrist just as the crystal discharged, and he slumped in his seat. Unfortunately, his effort to save himself ripped a hole through several layers of foil, weakening the shield enough to allow a trickle of energy to flow from the stunner to the leecher. She let the baton clatter to the ground as Ace came up behind her and hoisted the unconscious guard over his shoulder. They brought him back to the supply closet.

She did her best to repair the damage while Ace assessed the second guard’s build. “This isn’t going to work,” he said. “He’s too short.” He bound and gagged the guard, then looked at her, pointing to her wrist. “Is that going to be a problem?”

She shook her head. “It’s a minor inconvenience. We can still go through with the plan.” She hoped.

“Who’s left? Drongo and Wilder?”

She nodded.

Drongo was a Wallop. A particularly large Wallop. They were lucky he was with them rather than against them, but his uniform wouldn’t fit Ace, either. “Wilder it is,” Ace said. “Let’s go.”

Down on the ground floor, they motioned for Drongo and Wilder to follow them, leading them out of the cellblock and into the guard’s locker room.

“Strip,” Ace told Wilder without preamble.

“Whoa, what? That wasn’t part of the plan,” he said.

“I need your uniform.”

“How are we gonna explain that to Mr. Moss? Martlet said you were just gonna sneak by us.”

“Just say we snuck up behind you and hit you with this,” Ace said, holding up the baton he took from the second guard upstairs.

Drongo snorted.

“Problem?”

“Aye. Go ‘head and give it yer best shot.”

Ace activated the baton and jabbed it dead center in the middle of Drongo’s chest. The Wallop didn’t even flinch, not even when Ace held it there for several long seconds.

That did pose a problem. How would they explain how Wilder was taken down without Drongo noticing and raising the alarm or simply stopping them himself?

“We don’t have time for this,” she said. “Drongo, you’ve caught the flu. It upset your stomach. You’ve spent the last hour in the bathroom. You didn’t see or hear anything. Go.”

Drongo left, grumbling about the indignity of that cover story.

They both returned their attention to Wilder.

“Your uniform now, if you please,” Ace prompted.

“What? Right here in front of her?” He leaned in closer to Ace and lowered his voice. “I don’t wear…uhh….” His face flushed red as he trailed off.

Eww.

“She doesn’t care,” Ace said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Yes, what is that supposed to mean?”

Ace sighed. “Just…wait outside?”

Rolling her eyes, she did as he asked. A few minutes later, he came out wearing Wilder’s uniform and carrying two pairs of dark adaptor goggles. He handed one pair to her, and she put them on.

They moved on, past the cafeteria, the infirmary, the visiting room, and intake. Using the keys pilfered from one of the guards, they opened the front door and stepped out into the night.

They crept past the tracker beast cages, fearful of waking them up. They didn’t need their baying raising any suspicions. Once past them, they went their separate ways, him to deal with the guards in their towers while she headed around back.

That was where the warden’s two-story building sat. The entire first floor was one large office. The second floor was a fully furnished apartment. The warden had a house on Seraph, of course. The largest one on the terra. But Mr. Moss preferred to stay on Zartacla.

Behind the building, walled off between it and the wall surrounding the prison, was The Courtyard. And off to the side was a separate garage. That’s where his beloved Bessy would be.

She passed a patrolling guard along the way. They nodded to each other, and he walked on by, but then he stopped and called out, “Wait!”

Damn.

She stopped and faced him, tensing for a fight. She hoped it didn’t come to that. That could draw the attention of other guards.

“What’re you doing here? This is my route.”

“It surely is,” she said brightly, adopting the prevalent accent of the region. “I was just bringin’ some cough medicine over to Mr. Moss. He called the infirmary sayin’ he was out and needed s’more.”

“Drew the short straw, huh?”

She laughed. “Oh, I don’t mind.”

“Tch, it’s freezing out here. Why don’t you hand it on over? I’ll take it to him, and you can go back inside where it’s warmer.”

“Well, bless your heart; chivalry ain’t dead, after all. But I’ve come all this way already; what’s a little farther?”

“Suit yourself.”

He gave a jaunty little salute, turned, and went on his way. Breathing a sigh of relief, she continued to her destination.

No lights were on in the main building. Mr. Moss must be asleep. Good. Even better, the garage was unlocked. As quietly as she could, she rolled it open. She uncovered Moss’ Heliblade and checked the fuel compartment, finding it ready to go with new engine crystals. She closed the compartment door and took a seat. Gripping the handlebars, she focused her attention on the cuff with the compromised shield, on the alert for any sign that the leecher was siphoning energy from the crystals. But it seemed to be holding.

The only problem now was that the key wasn’t in the ignition. Of course, nothing could ever be simple. She got up and began looking around the garage for the key, but it was nowhere to be found. With a sigh, she realized she’d have to search the office.

Wishing she had kept the baton, she grabbed a crowbar as a tool and weapon and headed for the main building. Unlike the garage, the door was locked. With a little effort, she pried it open with the crowbar and slipped inside. Closing the door behind her, she paused and listened for any sounds that would indicate that the noise of the break-in had woken up Mr. Moss. But all was quiet. She relaxed a little.

The front of the office was faintly illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the front windows. But the further into the office she ventured, the darker it got. There were no windows along the back wall where the desk sat. But she dared not turn on a light and risk tipping Mr. Moss off that someone was here if he were to awaken. At least it wasn’t pitch black.

She slid open one of the desk drawers, freezing when she heard him cough from upstairs. The tickle in her throat, the one she’d done such a good job ignoring up until this point, intensified at the sound, and she choked back a cough. Now was not the time!

Once she had it under control, she squinted through the darkness at the drawer's contents. Her priority was the skimmer key, but she kept an eye out for the cuff keys, as well. If she could rid herself of the cuffs here and now, she wouldn’t have to worry about the integrity of her makeshift shields.

The first drawer didn’t yield anything she was looking for. Neither did the second. As she opened the third, another, more violent cough came from upstairs, followed by loud grumbling and a light flicking on.

She searched the third and fourth drawers, found the skimmer key, and grabbed it. She was halfway to the door when another light flicked on, and footsteps started down the stairs. She dove behind an armchair, poking her head around it just far enough to see Mr. Moss. He was dressed in his uniform slacks, with his shirt unbuttoned over an undershirt and no boots. As she watched, he walked over to his desk, sat down, and turned on his desk lamp. She ducked back behind the chair.

She had hoped that he had just come down to grab something off his desk and return upstairs, but a full five minutes dragged by and he didn’t move. She chanced another glance and saw him reading some reports. She’d never been one to subscribe to the childish notion that good things happened to good people and bad things happened to bad people. Even the idea that people could be categorized as good or bad was a gross oversimplification, as far as she was concerned. But she knew what column she fell under in the minds of the general populace of Atmosia. As she sat trapped here without any useful crystals in sight and no plan for this contingency, time ticking away, she was starting to rethink her dismissal of that philosophy.

Even more so when Mr. Moss suddenly spoke aloud, “Why in the blue blazes is it so cold in here?”

Mr. Moss got up and went to the door, and her gaze followed him. She must have damaged it more than she thought when she pried it open. It hadn’t latched fully when she closed it behind her, and now it stood just slightly ajar, letting in a draft. Opening the door wider, he peered out into the darkness. It was the best opening she was going to get. She stood, tightly gripping the crowbar with both hands. But before she could rush him, he whirled around to face her, and she hesitated. If she attacked now, having lost the element of surprise, it would be far too easy for him to disarm her. And then what?

“Well, well, well, what have we here? I knew it was only a matter of time before you tried to fly the coop. Why don’t you put the crowbar down, and we can have a rational discussion.”

Her disguise, such as it was, hadn’t fooled him for a second.

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

Mr. Moss moved so that his back was no longer to the open door. He must suspect she wasn’t alone and didn’t want anyone sneaking up on him. “We’ve got plenty to discuss. Like how much trouble you’re in. Care to take a wild guess?” When she didn’t respond, he grinned. “The answer’s gonna surprise you. You’re not. On one condition.”

She laughed skeptically, and he continued. “I mean it. I know I’ve been hard on you. I’m not gonna apologize for it. I knew from the start that you’d need a firm hand, and I was right. But let’s forget all that, just this once. If you come along quietly back to your cell, I’ll forgive this transgression. That goes for the Dark Ace, too, since I’m sure he’s skulking around somewhere.”

Even if she believed him, she had no intention of just giving up now. Not when her key to freedom was quite literally in her possession. And not when his overabundance of caution had given her a free path to the door. With all her might, she threw the crowbar right at his face. He tried to dodge out of the way but wasn’t fast enough. While he was spared a crushed nose, the crowbar struck a glancing blow that lacerated his cheek. His hand flew up to his bleeding face as he unleashed a howl that was half pain, half rage.

It was time to go.

She ran for the door. He lunged at her but missed, and she took off toward the garage. “You little hellcat!” he yelled. “Imma tan your hide for that!”

That she believed, but he would have to catch her first.

She fished the key out of her pocket once she reached the garage. Hopping onto the Heliblade, she wasted no time starting her up. Shifting into first gear, she rolled on the throttle, riding out of the garage and right into the path of a crowbar-wielding Mr. Moss.

She turned to go around him, bracing herself for the swing he would undoubtedly try to take at her as she passed. Instead, he threw the crowbar through the spokes of the bike’s front wheel, bringing her to an abrupt halt. She rolled out of the way as the bike toppled over, not wanting to be dragged with it as it skidded to a stop a few meters away.

“Look what you made me do to Bessy!” Mr. Moss seethed as he stomped toward her. She scrambled over to the fallen Heliblade, ripping open the fuel compartment door and grabbing two engine crystals.

Standing, she ran to put some distance between her and Mr. Moss. As she did, she forced the energy from one of the engine crystals into the second, overloading it. When it grew hot in her hand, she turned and threw it at Mr. Moss.

Unfortunately, she miscalculated the timing, and the crystal exploded in midair between them. The force of it knocked them both back.

By this point, the commotion had drawn the attention of the nearest guard tower. Ace’s job had been to target the guards at the front of the prison. They hadn’t thought they’d need to take out the ones near the rear.

The tower’s searchlight found them, and the alarm sounded, muffled at first but slowly growing louder.

Younger and healthier, she was the first to recover. She pushed herself to her feet while Mr. Moss was still on the ground. All the exertion had triggered another coughing fit in him. “Don’t just…stand there!” he spluttered, red-faced behind the mask of blood still flowing from the gash on his cheek.

She whirled to find the guard she had spoken to earlier swinging his baton at her. She caught it, closing her hand around the stunner crystal.

The guard gave an incredulous laugh. “You can’t be that stupid,” he said and pressed the button to activate the crystal. Nothing happened.

“I’m not,” she smirked. A couple of seconds was all she needed to render the crystal powerless. His eyes widened as it finally dawned on him who he was dealing with. To his credit, he didn’t back down, and they grappled together for control of the baton.

At least they did until Mr. Moss grabbed her from behind. The guard wrenched the baton free from her grasp as she struggled against Moss’ attempts to pin her arms behind her back.

“Take the fight out of her,” Mr. Moss ordered. The guard drove the baton forward, landing a hard, perfectly aimed hit to her solar plexus. Her knees buckled as she fought to draw in a breath with lungs that refused to work.

Mr. Moss grabbed one of her arms, shoving up her sleeve. “Think you’re slick, figurin’ out how to stop the cuffs from working, dontcha?”

She shook her head, breathless and unable to speak. Panic gripped her, and she broke out in a cold sweat. She was only vaguely aware of Mr. Moss tearing away pieces of foil and plastic, uncovering the leecher cuff. The guard followed suit, destroying the shield surrounding the other cuff.

They had stripped her of the guard uniform, and three more guards had shown up to point their crystal-tipped staves at her by the time she took her first gasp of air. The black specks that had begun to overtake her vision slowly faded, and she looked up to see Mr. Moss glaring down at her; a handkerchief pressed tightly to his cheek.

“You gon’ live?” he asked.

She made a sound that was definitely not words, which didn’t seem to satisfy him as an answer.

“Are you going to live?” he asked again, annoyed that he had to repeat himself.

She drew in a shaky breath and tried again. “Yes.”

“Good. Would ruin my fun if you died now.”

Two guards grabbed her and dragged her to her feet as Mr. Moss began barking orders.

“Release the Occucrows and the Tracker Beasts. There ain’t no way she was working alone. The Dark Ace is out there somewhere. Put together a team and scour every square centimetre of this terra if you have to,” he ordered one of the guards, who saluted and ran off.

“Go to the infirmary and tell the medic to get his ass out here and bring his kit. Then I want every guard assigned to Section A tonight to assemble in The Courtyard. Hell, bring the other prisoners from 3A with you, too, assuming they’re still there,” he told another. “If not, I want them hunted down within the hour, along with the Dark Ace.”

Then he turned his attention to the two guards holding her. “This one has a date with the strap. Make sure she gets there.” Then, to her, “You’re gonna wish you had taken me up on my offer.”

The two guards roughly escorted her to The Courtyard. The yard itself was nothing more than a large patch of barren dirt. In the center of the yard stood a whipping post. Not far from it stood another, shorter wooden pillar with two large nails driven into it. A red bag hung from one of the nails, and a wide strap of thick leather hung from the other.

She dug her heels in, but it barely slowed them down as they dragged her over to the post. One of them let her go long enough to unbutton her jumpsuit and pull it down, tying the sleeves like a belt around her waist to secure it. The thin, short-sleeved undershirt she was left with offered scant protection from the cold and would offer even less against what was to come. She was already shaking from earlier, and the cold didn’t make it any better. The chains rattled when they shackled her to the post. Gritting her teeth, she gripped the chains and willed herself to be still. She didn’t want them to think she was afraid.

“-need stitches,” came the insistent voice of someone new entering The Courtyard a few minutes later.

“Not now, I said! All I need from you now is something to stop this blasted bleeding. Glue it if you have to,” Mr. Moss’ voice answered before he bellowed, “Where is everyone? One of you get over to Section A and light a fire under them. I ain’t waiting around here all night.”

There was quiet for several minutes while the medic patched up Mr. Moss’ face as best he could. She spent that time trying to control her breathing, which sounded too fast, too loud, and too uneven to her ears. Maybe it was just her imagination. But then Mr. Moss was beside her, regarding her with a grin that was not at all friendly. “Scared?”

No good could come of responding to him. It would be better to keep her mouth shut.

“Should I be?” she sneered instead. “I’ve heard some people enjoy this sort of thing.”

“That so?” Mr. Moss asked, sounding a little too calm. “Think you’re one of them?”

He went over to the pillar and retrieved the strap, then disappeared somewhere behind her. A moment later, she was struck across the back with such force that she would have been knocked off her feet if not for the shackles and the post in front of her holding her up. She’d been in her share of fights and taken her share of hits, but this bore little resemblance to any of those. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the stinging pain of the blow itself or her helpless inability to defend herself.

He walked back around to where she could see him. “What do you think now?” He sounded so smug that she wished she had a smart reply for him, but she didn’t. Before he could say anything else to her, his attention was drawn back to the entrance. “It’s about time! Muster up! Guards on one side, you two on the other!”

Ravess’ laughter set her teeth on edge. “Now, this makes being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night worth it!”

Mr. Moss glared at Ravess. She turned her head in time to watch as her laughter died and her grin faded. Swallowing hard, Ravess lowered her gaze to the ground in front of her feet. She missed being the one who could quell the other woman with such a look.

Beside Ravess, Snipe didn’t look like he wanted to be here, either, but for different reasons. He was flushed and shivering, his breathing raspy, and he wasn’t complaining. He had to feel pretty miserable if he didn’t have the energy to complain.

On the other side of the yard, the guards stood at attention. Aguilar was still in nothing but his undergarments, while someone had thankfully found a spare pair of pants for Wilder to throw on before coming out here.

Mr. Moss raised his voice to be heard by all assembled. “As I am sure you are all aware by now, an escape attempt was allowed to be planned and carried out under your noses! How the hell could you let this happen? I want an account of what went down tonight in your section, and I want it now. Starting with you.” He pointed to Wilder.

Each guard gave a short briefing, and Mr. Moss zeroed in on Martlet and Argus, the other guard assigned to 3A for the night.

“There’s no way they could’ve got out of their cells on their own and snuck by you without you noticing. Either there was some serious dereliction of duty going on up there, or you two helped them,” he said with certainty. “If I were a bettin’ man, I’d wager it’s the second.”

“Sir, I would never, I swear!” Argus argued, and Martlet echoed his denial.

“We’ll see,” Mr. Moss said, then looked at her. “Tell me who helped you, and you can go back to your cell right now. Things don’t need to get any uglier. Not for you, not for Ace when we find him. And we will find him; make no mistake about that.”

It was a clever ploy, and an insulting one. He was so confident that she would betray the guards who had helped her to save her skin. But she couldn’t. If she turned on them now, word would spread. She would lose the loyalty of every guard who still showed allegiance to her. And for what? To spare herself some pain? Was that worth all she would lose and the scorn that would rightfully follow her for the rest of her time here?

“No one helped us.”

“Hogwash,” he hollered. He disappeared from view, and she braced herself. The second strike of the strap came down even harder than the first, and she stifled a yelp. She wasn’t going to cry out. Not in front of Ravess and Snipe.

“That jog your memory?”

“Ace and I worked alone,” she insisted through gritted teeth.

Frustrated, he stalked to where Martlet and Argus stood. “You’re either traitors, and she’s covering for you, or you’re idiots. I can’t prove the first, so I have to assume the second. And since I already employ one idiot here and don’t need two more, you’re fired! When we’re done here, you’ll be escorted to the first transport ship off this terra. If I ever see either of you disgraces again past sunrise, you’ll become my permanent guest here.”

Stepping back, he said, “The rest of you are on thin ice. If anything like this happens again on your watch, you’re out.”

He crossed to the other side of the yard. “As for you two, pay attention. Consider this an object lesson in what happens when you cross me.”

“And you,” he said as he came around to face her again. “This ends when you apologize, and I believe it.”

“Sir,” the medic spoke up. “Policy dictates that for female prisoners, a maximum of twelve strikes with the strap be administered at any one time, and-“

“This ain’t my first rodeo!” Mr. Moss interrupted him angrily. “I know what the policy is. I’m making an exception.”

“That’s not-“

“Not what?” Mr. Moss demanded, brandishing the strap at the medic, who raised his hands in surrender. “That’s what I thought. Now let’s begin.”

The first strike landed right below her shoulder blades. The second one below that. The third below that. That one made it particularly hard to keep her promise to herself. It landed where one of the earlier blows had and was already tender. She choked back a whimper.

“You’re too quiet,” Mr. Moss commented, laying down the fourth strike in his methodical march down her back. “What number was that?”

“Four,” she answered tightly.

“Keep counting,” he ordered.

The strapping continued until he reached the back of her knees.

“Eight!” she counted, hating how her voice rose in pitch at the end.

“Where’s my apology?”

“I’m not sorry!” she told him stubbornly. To have an apology forced from her would be even more humiliating than the strapping itself. She wasn’t going to humour him.

“Well, we’ll see how you feel after eight more.”

The second round was so much worse than the first. He didn’t let up even a little. He continued to put his full strength behind every swing as he layered new strikes over old, making her feel like she was on fire. By the time they got to sixteen, her eyes were tearing up so badly that everything was blurry, and she was shaking from the effort it took to suppress her reactions.

“My apology?” Mr. Moss prompted.

“You’re not getting one,” she told him, and to her shame, even her voice was shaking.

“This is ridiculous,” Ravess spoke up. “Just apologize.”

“Stay out of it,” she spat. “I’m sure you’re loving this.”

“I would be, but you’re ruining it with your stupid, stubborn pride. If you’re not going to make this at least a little entertaining, I’d rather go back to bed.”

“Enough! Do you want me to add your name to the list of people getting whupped tonight? No? Then keep your mouth shut,” Mr. Moss said to Ravess before returning his attention to her. “You sure you don’t have an apology for me? Alright, then, round three it is.” The strap cracked across her back once more.

They were halfway through round three when a commotion interrupted them. “Aha, the Dark Ace,” Mr. Moss said. “About time you joined us. Put him over there where they can see each other.”

Four guards dragged a bloodied, struggling Dark Ace into her field of view before forcing him to his knees. Her heart sank. He hadn’t gotten away. This had all been for nothing.

“Whoo, boy!” Mr. Moss laughed. “I was gonna say you missed out on most of the fun, but you look like you’ve been through the wringer!”

There was a still bleeding gash over one of Ace’s eyebrows, along with several other cuts and red marks that looked like they would be bruises tomorrow. The eye under the cut was already starting to swell shut. One sleeve was ripped to shreds, and his arm covered in bite marks. And that was just what was visible.

“Strip him to the waist,” Mr. Moss ordered the guards. “I need to finish up here. What number are we on?”

“Twenty-one,” she answered bleakly.

“See, this is why I hate getting interrupted. That number don’t sound right to me. Let’s start back at seventeen, to be sure.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, alright?” she said before he could begin again. “For trying to escape. And for the crowbar incident.”

“And Bessy?”

“And for crashing Bessy. We’re sorry for everything that happened tonight.”

Mr. Moss chuckled. “Oh no, your window of opportunity to apologize for Ace has closed. Tell you what, though. I’m willing to be merciful this time on account of how it looks like he’s already most of the way to learning his lesson. I think ten lashes should get him the rest of the way there. But let’s not worry about that now; we were on seventeen, weren’t we?”

“I apologized!”

“That you did. But if you recall, I have to believe it.”

She was a sobbing mess by the time they reached twenty-four, but she could hardly bring herself to care. Dignity be damned. Ravess was right. It was sheer, stubborn pride that made her try to pretend this didn’t hurt like hell, and it had done nothing but lead to more pain.

“Well?” Mr. Moss asked after allowing her a moment to pull herself together enough to give a coherent response.

“I’m sorry.”

And she was sorry. Sorry they failed. Again.

“I accept your apology,” he told her with a ‘friendly’ pat on the back that made her flinch. “Oops. Honest mistake,” he smirked. “Anyway, now that I’m all warmed up, time to let the cat out of the bag.” He nodded to the guards holding down Ace, and they hauled him to his feet. She was unshackled and pushed off to the side to where Ravess and Snipe stood as Ace replaced her at the whipping post.

“You deserved that,” Ravess hissed at her as she pulled the top of her jumpsuit back on and buttoned it with still trembling fingers. “I can’t believe you and Ace tried to escape without us.”

“You couldn’t be trusted.”

“Please. Do you think I would have sabotaged my own chance to get out of here just to hurt you? You’re as self-absorbed as ever.”

“Ladies, is it social hour?” Mr. Moss asked with a hint of warning in his voice. He stood raking his fingers through the knotted cords of the cat o’ nine tails he now held, untangling them.

“This isn’t over,” Ravess told her.

Satisfied once everyone was quiet, Mr. Moss turned his attention back to Ace.

“I find myself faced with a quandary, Ace. Will a few welts be enough to teach you the lesson I’m aiming to teach, or do I need to leave a more lasting impression?”

Ace just glared at him without answering, refusing to play his game. Mr. Moss was undeterred.

“You’re right, of course. Nothing worth doing is worth doing by half measures.”

He positioned himself behind and just off to the side of Ace, giving the whip a final little shake out as he leaned onto his back foot. Then shifting all his weight to his front foot, he delivered the first lash with a full-armed swing. Ace grunted as the cords struck him, leaving angry red marks against the pale skin of his back.

Mr. Moss took his time returning to his starting position. “Now I know I can do better than that,” he said as he studied his handiwork. The second and third lashes looked much the same as the first. The fourth through sixth left angry, raised welts in their wake. Mr. Moss worked at a leisurely pace, really drawing the flogging out.

The seventh lash took some skin with it. The pained noise it drew from Ace, while still subdued, was the loudest sound he’d allowed himself to make the whole time. Mr. Moss smiled, encouraged.

The last three lashes left more abrasions. Blood trickled down Ace’s back from at least a dozen cuts, but he had refused to give Mr. Moss the satisfaction of crying out any further. Nevertheless, the warden seemed pleased with the job he had done. He handed the whip to one of the guards to clean up and put away.

“We’re done here. Pair off,” he told the guards. “First pair, escort your former colleagues to the docks and get them off my terra. Second pair, take Cyclonis to solitary. If you lose her along the way, you will not like the consequences. Third pair, take Ace to the infirmary to get cleaned up, then straight to solitary afterwards. Don’t lose him, either. As for the rest of you, take the other two prisoners back to their cells and lock ‘em down for twenty-four hours. They can spend the time contemplating tonight’s lesson on the futility of trying to escape.”

#storm hawks #storm hawks fanfic #storm hawks master cyclonis #storm hawks dark ace #storm hawks ravess #storm hawks snipe #storm hawks mr. moss #storm hawks piper

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