Sound Tracking 3/5

[turps]

"Which counts for nothing if we're all dead." Bob looks at the map again, listens to the faint sound of Ray. "Will Ray be at the processing facility?"

Matt looks unsure. "He could be, or he could be loading. The landing field is in that direction, too."

"Fantastic," Bob says bleakly. He knows that Ray could be anywhere between the mine and the processing plant. That is if he's even loading dust today. The chances of finding Ray are slim, but Bob knows he'll take them. There's no way he can't when Gerard's looking at him, utterly confident in Bob's ability to pull this off.

Quickly making a decision, Bob starts toward the Love and Death. It's the only way they'll get to Ray in time, and also, it makes Bob feel more secure when he's inside his craft. He feels far too exposed here, the stillness unsettling as he waits for inevitable detection.

"We'll fly toward the processing plant. I'll stay low and you'll have to listen for Ray. Tell me when he's close."

"You want me to find him?"

Gerard sounds uncertain, feels uncertain, but Bob's got no time for reassurances. He looks back, impatiently indicating Gerard should follow. "We don't have time to walk, and while I can fly and listen at the same time, it'll be easier if you do it, quicker too. You need to do it."

"But..." Holding Matt close, Gerard trails off, and his beat is a rapidly twisting sound, echoing the accelerated changes in his emotional responses. He looks up, posture straightening. "I can do that."

"You can," Bob agrees. He unseals the door of his craft and waits as Gerard helps Matt inside. Glancing at his timer, Bob curses softly and is about to go to the conn when Gerard grabs hold of his arm. His fingers are warm, gripping tightly and Bob can feel the thrum of Gerard's pulse, the melody that surrounds him as he chews at his bottom lip, looks away, then directly at Bob.

"If I were a good man I'd say we should fly away now and not look back," Gerard says. He loosens his grip. "I'm not a good man."

Arm cold from the lack of contact, Bob concentrates on sealing the door. "That's a matter of opinion."

There's a pause, then Gerard says, "Thank you." He jumps when there's a thump against the outside of the craft, raised voices and sounds of laser fire signaling they've been found at last. "What do you want me to do?"

"It'll help if we stay together, so you come up front with me." Bob walks forward, settles into his seat and wipes his palms on his lap as Gerard helps Matt settle in the empty chair before sitting on the floor to his side. He's resting against Matt's legs, looking nervous as Bob twists around in his seat. "You know Ray, instinctively you know his beat. You both do. All you can do is listen, when you get close you'll know."

Matt leans close to Gerard, bracing his hand against the chair arm as he talks softly. "How the hell are we supposed to hear Ray when we're in a space ship?"

Normally Bob would bristle at his craft being called a space ship, but right now he’s too worried about the hits the Love and Death is taking and he leaves it for Gerard to explain.

Reaching for his headset Bob slips it down, breathes deeply as the lines of light appear in front of his eyes, the universe exposed and ready to lead him away. Except this time he has to skim the surface of this world, keep the speed low and his flying precise, all the while listening to Gerard and Matt, and in extension, Ray.

"I'm going now," Bob warns, and he reaches out his hands, manipulates light as the Love and Death roars from the ground, powering through the bots that charge toward them, laser beams slicing at the metal and bathing the conn in bursts of red light.

Keeping control is hard, it's wrong to be on this planet and Bob's skin crawls with the need to blast into deep space. Instead he slows, follows the curve of rock formations and a path made dark by countless marching slaves. Attention caught between holding his flight path and the hurried conversation between Gerard and Matt.

“The Love and Death is a craft, and you won't believe what we haven't been told." Gerard turns so he can see Matt clearly, so obviously wanting to explain about the beat of the universe, the way it's used and understood. "I'll tell you all about it later, it's awesome, but for now... Remember, back home, when you said you could hear us sometimes? That night when we played at the club and the kids kept yelling for us to play more? When we left and the suns were rising as we hid the equipment and you said you could still hear our music? I think you could. I think you could hear us all."

Head resting against Gerard's, Matt closes his eyes and there's the faintest thread of remembered song, bound into the melody that already fills the air. "We sounded good."

"We sounded awesome," Gerard says. He closes his eyes too, his nose wrinkling as he concentrates. "Can you remember Ray?"

"He'd used that new cleaner, by the time we'd finished the set his hair was exploding from his head." Matt smiles, and the melody between him and Gerard tightens, rich with shared memories and love. It's something Bob misses, and his chest aches with loss at this reminder of long friendship and people who, without knowing it, have created their own song.

Gerard laughs, his head resting against Matt's arm. "He was wearing stik boots. Fucking shredding while stuck to the wall." His laughter quiets as Gerard prompts. "Do you remember how he sounded? Not singing, but after? Everyone has their own sound like that. Listen to me, not my voice, the sound the surrounds me, my beat. It's there, and I know you can hear it."

“Right.” Matt looks skeptical, but he goes quiet, and Bob assumes he’s trying to hear. Eventually he says, "It feels like you."

"It is me," Gerard says. "Now listen again. Listen for Ray."

Again there’s silence until Matt says, hesitantly. "I can feel him. I think."

"Yeah, me too,” Gerard says. “I think... Stop!"

Bob winces as someone touches his back. It divides his attention, senses thrown outwards but also in, and it feels like he's been wrenched in two as he brings the Love and Death into a hard landing. Pulling off his headset, Bob swallows against the nausea and pushes himself up, his hand against his chair.

"I'm sorry." Gerard looks stricken as he stands. "I forgot, and I felt him, really strong. We both did."

Matt nods his agreement, looking unsure as he glances from Gerard to Bob.

"Just don't do it again," Bob says shortly. His head is aching and the urge to just take off and go is even stronger now, but he makes for the door, Gerard and Matt close behind.

When Bob unseals the door it's to more outcrops of rock, more bleak horizon stretching far into the distance. There are no guards yet, no bots patrolling the well worn path that leads towards a cleared area marked out with white lights pushed into the rocky ground. The lights are surrounding a craft, much bigger than the Love and Death its door wide open and exposing the troughs full of dust that are stacked up inside. More dust is being delivered by a small group of slaves who are pushing giant hover carts, each one piled high and as Bob watches they maneuver the carts onto an anti grav hoist that floats each one inside.

Bob knows Ray is there somewhere; he can feel him, a missing part of Matt and Gerard's melody. But he can't see him. All the slaves look the same, the same shuffling movements and faded robes, their skin turned red with the sun.

"I can't see him." Matt's propped against the door, Gerard at his other side. "What if we're wrong? He could be anywhere."

"We'll find him and set him free," Gerard says. His confidence is good to hear, but also terrifying, because Bob knows that if it comes down to it he'll have to leave Ray behind. The same way he left the slaves in the caves. He thinks he should be feeling guilty about that, but he's not. He has to worry about himself, then Gerard, then the band. Anyone else doesn't feature at all, except in the way Bob's memorising details, ready to pass them on to Pete as soon as he can.

"Look," Gerard says suddenly, pointing toward a slave who's just eased himself out of the craft door. He staggers when he hits the floor, landing on his knees. Within seconds a guard appears and jumps down too, yelling something as he kicks at the slave's leg until he stands.

"Don't you fucking dare!" Enraged, Gerard runs toward the slave and guard. Frantically, Bob reaches out to stop Matt following, but all he gets is fabric slipping through his fingers.

Furious, Bob follows, all too aware of how this rescue is going badly wrong. Grabbing his stunner, he aims at the guard who's drawing his own weapon, pointing it in the direction of the rapidly approaching Gerard. Bob fires first, and misses, his shot hitting the side of the craft. Immediately he fires again, and this time he hits, the guard dropping to the ground.

"I swear I will end you." Bob runs past Matt and shoots the guard in the chest, ending his frantic words into the transmitter built into his glove. Stepping over the body, Bob barely resists the urge to grab Gerard and shake him. "What the fuck do you think you were doing?"

"He was kicking him." Unrepentant, Gerard grabs the slave's arm and pushes back the slave's hood so he can see his face, frantic as he exclaims. "Do you know someone called Ray? Ray Toro? We think he's here."

The slave shakes his head and tries to walk away, looking only at the empty cart that's positioned close by. Gerard doesn't let go.

"You have to know him. He's here. I know it."

"Gerard, stop. You're frightening him." Gently, Bob uncurls Gerard's fingers, unsurprised when the slave runs away.

"But he's here, Bob. I can feel him."

"I know," Bob says, because he can, too, like an itch of a mending wound. He looks around, thankful that for now there’s no more approaching guards. But he does see a slave standing behind a laden cart, looking over and staring at Matt and Gerard. Bob turns Gerard around. "I think someone's seen you."

"Ray!"

It should be a touching scene, Gerard running to embrace Ray, Matt at their side, his arms wrapped around them both. But all Bob can focus on are the alarms that are blaring, the dead body at his feet and the fact the more guards and bots are probably on their way. He looks at the Love and Death. It's only a short run away but it feels like it's miles. He grabs hold of Gerard's shirt, pulling him back.

"Come on, we’ve got him now, run!"

In reply, Gerard grabs hold of Ray’s arm and starts to run, Matt at their side. Hanging back Bob looks at the group of slaves that have frozen in place, then makes himself turn away. His craft can only take so many, and he can't risk freeing more. It would take too long, be too risky when the other three are already relying on him for their escape. He still feels terrible, guilt pressing into him hard.

Hyperaware of the alarm that still wails he runs toward his craft, all the while looking around and watching out for more guards. When he feels a shot pass close to his body he dives for cover, rocks stinging against his skin as he rolls behind the empty hover cart. Crouching, Bob looks around the side and sees two guards standing near the open hold, stunners aimed in his direction, pinning him in place. Grabbing hold of the cart, Bob starts to pull it back toward the Love and Death, hoping he can't be seen.

Which is when the hover cart explodes, blowing him off his feet. Thrown through the air, Bob gasps at the impact and moans when he feels the skin on his hands tear, his hip and side nothing but flaring pain as he lies on the ground, trying to pull air into his lungs. It takes too long, and Bob's on the edge of panic, feeling light-headed when he finally manages to breathe. He takes shallow breaths and pushes himself up on one hand, firing wildly and making the guards drop back.

"Bob! Bob!" Gerard's standing in the entrance of the Love and Death close enough that Bob can see how frightened he is, and even if he couldn't see, Bob would be able to feel, the addition of Ray making their beats that much stronger. Bob can't help focusing in, and immediately regrets it as the echoes of the resonances make themselves known, reminders of the wrongness of this planet, the utter silences and vacuums of sound and Bob rolls on his side, retching as he tries to make sense of something that's just not there.

"Bob, fuck, talk to me." Gerard starts toward Bob, but one of the guards fires, and Gerard jumps back, the laser passing too close.

Head down, Bob spits and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. Despite the pain, he throws himself to one side, rolling between the cover of a jagged area of rock. There's a depression between two of the biggest boulders, and Bob jams himself into the small space, stones digging into his legs as he pushes himself up. Breathing hard, he wills his hand to stop shaking as he aims his stunner at the guards. They're partially concealed by the smoke from the ruined hover cart, but Bob fires in the direction of both anyway, the smoke turning red with each blast.

Safe for the moment, Bob presses his hand against his side and looks over at his craft. He can see inside the open door, Gerard standing just inside with Matt and Ray behind him and Bob can hear him too, both in slices of words and beat. He can hear fear, reassurances, friendship and love as Gerard talks to Ray, explaining things that need much more time.

As they talk, Bob assesses the distance between his position and his craft. It's not far; close enough that it'll only take moments to cross. But, there's no cover and one of the guards is running between boulders and trees so he can take a position flanking Bob.

“There are reinforcements on the way, surrender or face death.”

Bob replies with a flurry of shots, causing the guard to retreat fully behind the boulder. The other guard has remained close to the slaves and is pushing them into a moving line, using them as a shield. He's looking at Bob through the bodies, ready to fire in an instant, and they're stuck in a stalemate. Bob trapped between the two guards. All he can do is sit and watch as time passes, and the solar flares begin to fade.

"We're not leaving you there."

Bob looks back at Gerard who’s shaking as he fires toward the guards, his shots high so there's no chance of hitting the slaves. Tactically it's a terrible move, useless for actual defense and Gerard obviously realises that, too. He passes the gun to Matt and Bob knows he's going to do something stupid. He can tell by the way Gerard's poised as if he's going to run and the tension he's radiating in waves.

"Gerard, you need to stay there. Barricade yourself in and contact Pete, he'll get to you somehow." Frantically Bob tries to urge Gerard inside, but he can feel the resonances as they begin once more. A vibration that seems planet wide--faint right now, but getting worse--strikes, and Bob's head is swimming, pain sudden and fierce as he curls up, his hands pressed against his ears. It doesn't help. All Bob can hear is that sound, bone deep and slicing through his body. He shakes uncontrollably as the resonances increase in intensity, until they're all he can hear, can sense, and he's clawing at the rock, trying to drag himself forward, desperate to get away, prompting a fresh wave of laser fire that hits the ground around him.

He gets nowhere. He's helpless against the relentless onslaught, and it's not going to stop, Bob knows that. The same way he knows he's losing his grip on his own mind--memories and capabilities not slipping but being ripped away. It's everything he ever feared, and he forces himself to look up, face wet with snot and tears. Sees Gerard, says, weakly. "You promised. Please."

Gerard wraps his hand around Matt's, lifts the stunner and points it toward Bob, then drops it again. He looks wretched, mouthing apologies as he suddenly runs toward Bob.

Bob tries to yell, but he's forgotten the words, can only watch as a laser beam just misses Gerard.

Who then collapses to the ground, knocked over by Matt who's firing blindly at the guard. He keeps coming and Matt keeps firing, most of his shots going wide as he stands over Gerard. Finally, with more luck than judgment, one shot hits and the guard falls to the ground.

"Gee, come on,” Matt urges, but in his haste to protect Gerard, Matt forgets to watch his own back. The shot from the second guard hits him dead on, and Matt falls forward, blanketing Gerard as the stunner rolls across the ground.

Reaching out from under Matt’s body, Gerard grabs the stunner and starts to fire wildly.

Bob tries to yell, to move, but he hurts and the sound. He can feel it invade his body, no sense or reason, just this constant, terrible whine and Bob wants his mom, but he's forgotten her name, her face. He wants his craft but he's forgotten how to fly. He curls up further, because it's too much, he can't hold on any longer. There's someone jabbing at his shoulder, though, insistent. Finally he opens his eyes.

"You're a lazy fucker, Bryar, you need to get the fuck up. Now."

Bob tries to push Jepha away, it's too early for this and it's not even his turn to fly.

"Get up!"

Jepha's shaking him now, fingers digging in cruelly, and Bob wants to ask what they drank the night before, but he can't find the words. He looks at Jepha, tries to convey how much he's hurting, and that he should just leave him alone.

"I know," Jepha says, gently. He kneels, resting his hand against Bob's cheek. "I wouldn't wake you if it wasn't important."

"We'd do it ourselves, but you know."

Bob whimpers when he moves his head so he can see Quinn. He's leaning against a boulder, legs crossed as he watches Bert walk close, Branden at his side. Bert drops down to the ground, his hair brushing against Bob's cheek when he looks at him face to face.

"I missed you, fucker." He's grinning, just this side of manic and when he bends in for a kiss his lips are dry. If he could, Bob would tell him he misses him too, all of them, but Bert seems to know anyway, his smile fading as he looks intently at Bob. "We know, and we'd keep you if we could."

"Yeah," Quinn says, kneeling next to Bert. "It sounds like philosophical bullshit, but it's not your time."

"Not even close." Jepha's still holding Bob's shoulder, and he shakes him again. "You need to get up now, though."

"No lying down on the job," Bert says, and Bob gets fleeting shattered memories of Bert lying in bed, grinning, the sheets tangled around his body.

"Not the time or place." Branden's smiling as he talks, but then he's grabs for Bob's hand, and pulls. "Really, you need to get up, now."

"There's not much time, a few minutes and you'll have the intelligence of one of Bert's socks," Jepha says. "Which is more intelligent than Bert, but you know."

"If I wasn't so busy getting this fucker on his feet I'd kick your ass." Bert takes a moment to scowl at Jepha then leans over so he's looking directly at Bob. He yells, spittle raining down. "Get your fucking lazy ass up now. Now! This is not ending like this."

He slaps Bob, hard, and looks utterly unrepentant. Not that it hurts, the slap is nothing compared to the other pain, but Bob moves, urged on by all four as he forces himself to his knees.

"You're going to have to run like fuck," Quinn says. "Chances are you'll get a laser to the back, but better that than the way you're going."

Which is true, and for a scant clear moment Bob needs his crew so badly, the people he's spent so much time with, who know him inside out. The ones he loves.

Bert stands, arms crossed. "If you fucking make me cry I'll fuck up your shit."

"You need to go," Quinn kneels up and wipes his fingers under Bob's eyes. "First though, you'd better take care of that fucker." He indicates the guard, who has grabbed one of the slaves, using her as a shield.

Bob nods, then stands. He wavers immediately, spewing bile, but he can feel four sets of hands at his back. Pulling on their strength, he lifts his stunner, and aims, hating how the slave’s eyes widen with fear.

"I'll hit her," Bob says, and he doesn't know if he can do this. If he can aim knowing he's going to take an innocent life.

"You've no choice; you can't shoot a laser around a curve." Bert looks up at Bob as he steadies his hand, his fingers wrapping securely around Bob's own. "Do it."

Bob pulls the trigger then, his laser going through the slave to the guard. They both collapse and then Bob’s running, bending to scoop up Matt, relieved when suddenly Ray's there too. He helps Gerard to his feet and they're sprinting back to the Love and Death, throwing themselves inside. Bob keeps going until he reaches the conn, hoping Gerard is sealing the door.

He collapses in his seat, chest heaving and hands shaking and he knows they need to take off, but Bob can't remember how. He's frozen, terrified at this lack of knowledge when Bert walks into view. Normally his place is behind Bob, chatting as they fly, today he stands, close enough to touch. As do Quinn, Branden and Jepha when they appear too.

"You can do this," Jepha says. "You were born to do this."

Bert flicks Bob's ear. "You'd better fucking do it, you pansy-ass bastard."

"You'll be fine," Quinn says. "You have to be, you've another crew that needs looking after."

Branden pushes past Quinn so he can see Bob. "And they need you now. We're fine, Bob."

Loss hits once more, made more painful because Bob can remember they shouldn't be here. But they are and he's going to lose them again, and maybe it's best if he just stays here and lets go.

"I should laser you for even thinking that." Quinn's angry, but when he speaks again, he sounds merely resigned. "You're needed here." He squeezes Bob's shoulder, kisses the top of his head. "Thanks, for before. I wouldn't have wanted to be buried without my hands."

"The memorial was a nice touch." Jepha moves in close, hugging Bob around the back of the chair. "And thanks, for what you said at the end."

"And the shared grave, it would have been lonely alone," Branden says.

Bob thinks Bert's going to stay silent, but he clears his throat, says. "Tell them-- Tell them they'd better look after you." He moves to the front of Bob, kisses him hard and quick. "Now, fly you fucker. There's guards and bots just outside."

Bob reaches up and pulls down the headset and prepares to fly.

It's impossible at first. The lines of sound and light make no sense, and when he tries to tune into the beat it hurts, his head pounding. Then he feels the ghost of a touch against his back, and he plunges in, instinct taking over as he flies.

The take off is worse than any he's ever rode. He feels flayed alive, his skin ripped from his body, his insides twisted and bones ground to powder, but he holds on, skims the ribbons that lead away from the planet, and when he breaks orbit he can barely keep himself upright, slumping back in his seat. He lies back, inputs the co-ordinates to get back to Pete's, then starts to take off his headset. He stops, hands hovering close. Knowing when he takes it off they'll be gone.

They are.

~~~~

It's quiet at the conn.

Bob looks out at space, the distant stars and planets and takes comfort in the sight. He notices acutely how he can hear the beat of the universe once more. He still hurts, badly, but it's much better than before. Pulling back his attention, he listens more closely, feels Gerard, Matt and Ray. Together they make a rich melody, one that's almost complete. Except, one sound is much fainter, and worry makes Bob struggle to his feet.

He finds them all clustered around Gerard's bunk, Matt lying down and Gerard kneeling at the head of the bunk, holding a cloth under Matt's nose. It's dark with blood, and there are trickles coming from his ears, the corner of his mouth.

Ray looks at Bob then immediately away, as if afraid to be caught looking. He's got his hands clasped in his lap, his fingers criss-crossed with cuts and he's covered in dust, his hair a dirty matted mess. Hesitantly, his voice rough, Ray says, "Thank you."

Bob shrugs a response, there's nothing he can say that's appropriate. You're welcome, it's nothing, none have any meaning in this moment, when Matt keeps bleeding and shock hangs heavy in the air. Suspecting why, but hoping he's wrong, Bob grabs the medical case and sets it on the floor next to the bunk. Wordlessly, Ray shifts to the bottom, giving room as Bob scans Matt for injuries.

"It hit me with a bacterial, didn't it?" Matt sounds resigned, but Bob can feel his fear, how it's reined in tight, as if Matt's afraid to lose all control.

"Looks like it," Bob says, and peels the back off a pain patch, sticking it to Matt's arm.

Matt sighs when the powerful drugs hit his system. "Figures.”

"What does that mean?" Gerard's moved to the opposite bunk and he leans forward, trying to see the scanner Bob's holding.

"It means I'm fucked," Matt says, unnaturally calm.

"Bob?"

Bob lets the scanner drop. His own grief is rubbed raw and he's struggling to deal, but he knows he's got no choice, has to give explanations that no one wants to hear.

Ray reaches out and briefly touches Bob's arm, then looks at Gerard. "The stunners the guards use have an escape level strength. They fire bacterials, beams infused with micro organisms that burrow into flesh and invade the internal organs. They've been genetically modified to activate growth within a certain time. Once they do they start liquefying bodies from the inside."

Matt wipes his fingers under his nose. "Like I said, fucked."

"No, you said a certain time. That has to mean something." Gerard turns to Bob. "We're in time, right? You can fix this."

"He can't." Matt clenches his hands and looks directly at Gerard. "The time thing. It just means you can get the antidote before a certain time. After that..."

"So we go get the antidote. We got you two out. We can get that."

"Gee. Stop." Matt beckons Gerard close, and Bob slips out of the way, giving them room. "Even if you could get it, it's too late. I know. I've watched people die like this before. At least l'll die in a bed and not on fucking alien soil like those other poor bastards." He stops talking then, taking in a short wet breath. "And Bob can't go back down, he'll die and you need him to fly."

"I was supposed to save you," Gerard says, reaching up, his fingers against Matt's neck.

Matt looks at him, says simply, "You did."

~~~

It takes three hours in the end.

They're all sitting close, Ray in Bob's bunk, hiding his winces as Gerard sits behind him, determinedly combing out his hair. It's not going well, but Gerard keeps relentlessly brushing, reclaiming inch by torturous inch.

Bob sits by Matt, keeping him as comfortable as possible as Matt's body slowly dissolves. He sleeps mostly, pink tears slipping down his face as Bob carefully cleans his face and body, soothing as best he can.

"I'm tired," Matt says. It's the first time he's spoken for nearly an hour, and Bob knows it's near the end. Matt's beat is slowing, is barely there, just a throb maintained by the strength of those that surround him. "Gerard, can you sing? Please."

Gerard's hands jerk, his fingers tangling in Ray's hair. "I haven't... Yeah."

Ray reaches back, his hand on Gerard's knee, and Bob helps Matt turn his head so he can see them both.

When Gerard begins to sing it's no song Bob's heard before, but it doesn't matter. Because it's a song about friendship, about love and loss, and Bob feels it like it's his own. Gerard keeps singing, and Matt's beat slows, slows, dies.

~~~~

They eject Matt's body within hours.

After setting course for the nearest small sun, Bob tidies his craft, keeping busy as Gerard and Ray wash Matt's face and hands. They do so slowly, carefully, showing respect in the way they arrange his body and cover him in a clean blanket, tucking in the edges so he's wrapped up tight.

"I'm sorry," Gerard says, head bowed as he pulls the blanket over Matt's face. Ray says nothing. He's deathly pale and when he walks he does so with his hands against any nearby support, his back bowed. Bob's surprised he's still functioning, but Ray keeps going, doing what's needed and asking no questions at all.

When Bob feels his craft slow he steps past Gerard and Ray, checking they've arrived where they need to be. They have and Bob squints against the light of the sun, giving moments of privacy before making his way back.

They're both standing now, still pressed close, united in numb grief and it feels like the universe is mourning with them, the joined melody of Gerard and Ray one of sorrow and Bob's eyes prickle in response.

"We're here?" Gerard asks. He's chewing on his bottom lip, looking everywhere but at Bob or the bunk.

"Yeah." Bob looks at Matt's body, at the ejection hatch and he knows he needs to push this forward, that it's up to him to signal the end. He goes to the bunks, crouches and lifts Matt carefully into his arms. He's tricky to hold because while he's painfully thin, he's also tall, and Bob can feel fluid seep through the blanket as he cradles him against his chest. "Can you open the hatch?"

Gerard blinks, then moves forward, pressing buttons so the hatch opens with a hiss.

It's a tight fit getting Matt's body inside. Bob has to bend Matt's knees and his feet provide resistance as Bob sets the door to close. But it does, and all that's left is for him to hit eject, sending Matt's body into the sun. He looks at Gerard and Ray. "Do you want to do it? Or say some words?"

Ray nods, and walks over with Gerard. Reaching out, he rests his hand on the controls and Gerard does the same, their fingers overlapping.

"You were a fantastic friend, you kept me going this last year," Ray says. More quietly he adds, "I'll miss you." After a second, when it seems as though he is done he speaks up again, his voice faltering. "Keep… Ah, keep play… banging those drums, wherever you go."

Ray dips his head and Gerard slips his arm around his back and they're propping each other up more than offering any actual support.

"Thank you. You saved me," Gerard says simply.

They press the button then, and the hatch opens on the outside, Matt's body ejecting into space.

~~~~

Pete’s sitting in the open door of his vehicle, scuffing the toes of his boots in the dirt, his red pants clashing with the yellow paint. When he sees them exit the Love and Death, he jumps to his feet.

"Gerard, I'm sorry." Pete pulls Gerard into a quick hug, nods at Bob and then turns to Ray. "I'm Pete, you must be Ray." Ray flinches slightly when it looks like he's about to be hugged too, but Pete keeps back, his sorrow obvious as he looks at them all. "I can get the doc if you need him; otherwise the beds are ready back at the house."

It's been days and Bob can still feel the effects of the shatter planet. His muscles ache and he's struggling through a headache that doesn't want to leave, but it's nothing sleep and pain patches won't cure, so he says, "I'm okay, but Ray..."

"I'm fine," Ray interrupts. He forces a smile and Bob wonders if Gerard has even mentioned the beat, because the fake smile does nothing to hide Ray's real feelings at all. Which is something Pete seems to feel too, but he says nothing, just glances at Bob before indicating his vehicle.

"In that case, climb aboard. We'll go home."

It's a nice thought, going home. But the fact is, the Love and Death is Bob's home, at least it was until it became less of a home and more somewhere where Bob could exist. As opposed to now, when it's beginning to feel like a home once again, even if the inhabitants are still uncertain.

Gerard sits between Bob and Ray, Pete sitting opposite once he sets his vehicle toward his house. He keeps the walls solid this time, tucking up his legs, his arms wrapped around his knees as he talks, filling the silence.

"I went to the No Grav Ball last night. The Everchanging Failboats were playing. Brendon managed to get his bubble stuck on the ceiling, he was trapped there for almost two songs, he kept playing though." Pete seems impressed, grinning at them over his knees. "He's a talented one; you should see him with a stunner. Still, he's not as good as Ross; he can take out a guard at fifty paces."

"They work for you, too?" Gerard asks, looking interested.

"Technically they answer to me but they tend to do their own thing and they're good at it, so." Pete shrugs. "Most of them are like that. I'm a figurehead mostly."

Bob thinks about all the names Gerard mentioned as he read Pete's word-streams, every appearance and show. "So, everyone you talk about has double lives?"

"Not all of them. Some are just there, part of the ever-superficial life of a C level celebrity."

"One that goes on raids and frees slaves," Gerard protests.

Pete shrugs, his smile edged and uncomfortable. "Masks and shadows, secrets and lies, they see what I want them to."

Gerard, whom Bob is beginning to understand isn't much of one for leaving well enough alone, asks, "And you're okay with that? That they don't know the real you?"

"I don't even know the real me," Pete says. "And if they did know I couldn't do what I do." He reaches for a data pad that's shoved down the back of the seat. "Anyway, it's fun seeing the comments on my word-streams." Quickly typing, he repeats what he's adding to the stream, "Travel in parked cars old friends and new saw a dark moon the future shattered dreams."

"What does that even mean?" Gerard asks, looking confused.

Pete grins. "I have no idea."

~~~~~

Bob wakes and immediately looks across the room.

Gerard and Ray are in Mikey's old bed, curled close together but when Bob moves Ray opens his eyes, looking fearful before he makes an obvious effort to relax.

"Sorry," Bob says softly, trying to be quiet as he gets out of bed. "I'm going to find coffee; do you want me to bring you some?"

"I'll go...." Ray starts to push himself up, then lowers himself back down. "It's okay, I'm fine."

"Okay," Bob says, not believing him at all, but now isn't the time, and he pulls on his clothes before leaving the room. Stomach growling, he makes for the kitchen and finds Pete sitting at the table. He looks lost in thought, his arms bare and tattoos on show as he rests his chin on his linked hands.

"Morning."

"Afternoon now," Pete says. "There's coffee ready, and if you're hungry just order what you want."

Filling a mug, Bob looks at the food dispenser, which seems to contain anything anyone would ever want to eat. He enters the code for a hosspig sandwich and then goes to sit opposite Pete.
"They still sleeping?"

"Gerard is, Ray not so much."

"It'll take time." Pete reaches for Bob's coffee, ignoring the resulting growl. He takes a sip and hands back the mug. "He'll start to talk soon, that'll help."

"Not everyone needs to talk."

"True, but most do. If they have anyone to talk to."

"Which isn't a problem for you, I'd imagine," Bob says.

Pete tucks his hands into the pocket of his jumpsuit and shrugs. "True, I have a lot of people who'll listen, but sometimes I don't want their replies."

"As opposed to needing it."

"I always need a reply. Doesn't mean I want to hear it." Pete reaches for the mug again and this time Bob hands it over. Pete takes a drink, looking pensive. "They all said I should have sent Mikey and Frank into a new life."

"They didn't approve of them staying?"

"Technically I shouldn't have kept them." Pete smiles briefly. "I'm good at ignoring rules when I want something."

"And you wanted them?" Bob isn't expecting a clear answer; he's talked to Pete for all of a few days and already knows some truths tend to be layered within other distracting words. But Bob's got an advantage in the way Pete sounds, the sense of loss that's concealed in his melody.

"Wants aren't easy and tend to come complete with teeth. They wanted to go, so, I mean. If you love someone and all that. Loss and barbed dreams."

"Right," Bob says, looking directly at Pete. "That's a yes then."

"Have you ever been lonely in a crowded room?"

"Hasn't everyone?"

Pete looks at Bob, his head tilted a little to the side. "You sound like Gerard. Gerard sounds like Mikey."

"And that's good?" Bob asks.

Pete's answer is a long time coming. "It reminds me of them and I've spent months deliberately not looking."

"But you're looking now, right?"

Pete says, "I have since the day you first turned up."

~~~~

Bob puts down his data pad, watching as Ray enters the room. He's still walking slowly, slightly hunched forward and he winces often despite the pain patch he has attached to his arm. Bob knows about that kind of ache, the kind that remains despite the best drugs. He shifts over on the couch, giving room so Ray can sit without them having to touch.

"I've been talking to Gerard," Ray says. He sits, turned slightly so that he can look at Bob. This is the first time they've been alone and it's easy to see that Ray's nervous, like he's out of practice with talking to someone new. "He's been telling me about the beat."

"Good," Bob says. "You needed to know."

Ray nods then. "They banned music on our planet, so we listened and played in secret, but I always thought there was something."

"Yeah," Bob says, encouraging Ray to go on.

"I wanted to ask." Ray turns further toward Bob, looking worried. "Now I know all that sound is out there, but I can't hear it and maybe it's too late."

"It's not too late." That's something Bob knows for certain. He can hear Ray's beat easily, in many ways more easily than he can Gerard's. It's an instinctive thing and Bob can't help feeling angry that Ray's right to listen was taken away.

Frustrated, Ray says, "So what? All I do is listen? Because I've been trying and I can't hear anything different."

"It's more how you listen." It's a repetition of what Bob has told Gerard, but it's still a struggle to find the words to explain something so instinctive. "You thought there was something, and that's because there is. The whole universe is filled with beats, currents of sound, and the problem is unraveling them all." He frowns, thinking of a way to clearly explain. "Think about how Gerard sounds, not his actual voice but the sound behind him. The way when he walks into a room you know it's him, even if you can't see."

Ray closes his eyes, and Bob waits until he nods slightly.

"Okay, remember that and listen to the house. Not specific sounds, just listen to it all, see if you can hear Gerard."

It takes a long time, so long that Bob's beginning to think he's done this too soon, that Ray should have had more time to recover. Then Ray's eyes open and he looks up, in the direction that Bob can sense Gerard. "I thought.... it's gone now."

Ray looks disappointed, but Bob hastens to reassure him. "You've never done this before, it's like handing someone a holo probe and expecting them to create a 4D dwelling when they haven't even managed a 3D landscape before. You did fine."

"And what if that's all I can do? Gerard says only certain people have this ability. What if I don't and the rest of you do? Just the deaf idiot who's allowed to stick around due to pity while you all communicate with super sound."

"It doesn't work like that," Bob says. "And I know you have the ability, it’s just a case of practicing, you’ll get it."

“I suppose,” Ray says. “I can practice if it gets me mutant bat ears, too.”

Bob sighs. “You really need to stop listening to Gerard so much. But if it works for you, mutant bat ears it is.”

Ray smiles and prepares to try again.

~~~~

It's only been days; maybe a week in total, but Bob already has a favourite place in Pete's house. He's lounging on one of the couches in the main living room, his socked feet pushed against the cushioned arm. He's been reading, but he puts the data pad to one side when Pete appears, looking tired as he folds himself up in one of the easy chairs.

"I swear, the Failboats are going to send me to an early grave. I told them to wait for backup, but did they listen? No they didn’t, they never do."

"Sucks," Bob sympathises, because he knows how it feels to be surrounded by people who never do a thing you say.

"Two hours I’ve been talking to Ross, most of that him telling me how his hat was set on fire by a laser beam." Pete pulls up his legs and rests his chin on his knees. "When I asked what he was doing to get shot at he said he was protecting Jon, and of course he was." Pete looks directly at Bob. "Why am I surrounded by people with suicidal hero complexes?"

"You’re just that lucky, I guess," Bob says. "Are they okay?"

"They’re fine. Holed up on the Northern Downpour and celebrating freeing more slaves." Despite his complaints, Pete sounds proud and he’s smiles happily at Bob then says, "I was thinking, back of the house or front. There's more light in the back, but the front's next to Mikey and Frank's room. Gerard will probably want to be close to them."

"The hell?" Bob says, not understanding this turn about in the conversation at all.

"Your room," Pete says, as if it's obvious Bob should know what he's talking about. "I know you'll be off looking for Mikey, but you'll need a base and I've plenty of room."

"But, I've already got a room, I've the whole of the Love and Death."

"I know, I know, the whole bond between pilot and craft, I get it. But you won't be flying all the time, and I thought." Pete looks away and for a moment all his insecurities are on display. "Stupid idea, it's okay."

"No," Bob hastens to say, but after that he's got no idea how to go on, because he's never even thought about staying here, for any amount of time. He doesn't even know Pete, not really. Thankfully he's saved by Patrick, who looks worried as he comes into the room.

"A slave punishment craft was destroyed last night." Patrick sits on the arm of Pete's chair, reading from a data pad. Pete uncurls and reaches up, wrapping his fingers around Patrick's wrist and turning his hand so he can see. "Most of the slaves were freed first."

"Ryan told me," Pete says, but he shakes his head as he reads, then looks up at Patrick. "That's not one of our groups."

"No," Patrick says. He shuts down the pad and taps the edge against his thigh. He seems uncomfortable, pushing his glasses up his nose as he looks from Bob to Pete. "We think it's Mikey and Frank."

"Why would you think that?" Pete demands.

"We've been hearing rumours for a while. Slave ships burned, a shipment of slaves disrupted in sector two, things that suggest a small-time operation. It didn't take long to find out who was doing it and frankly, I'm surprised they've lasted this long without being caught."

"Are you telling me you've known where they've been all this time?" Pete sounds icy calm, but the atmosphere is brittle, the usually harmonious melody between them all jagged sound and conflict.

"Not all the time, and even if I had I wouldn't have told you." Patrick jumps to his feet, moving to stand in front of Pete. "You didn't talk to me for days when they left. You didn't mention them; you didn't try to find them, nothing. And you could have, you could have listened and followed them but you didn't."

Pete stands too, glaring at Patrick. "Because they didn't want me to. They left."

"Exactly, they left. And I was here to pick up the pieces, and I did. Like I always do. So don't even get on me about not telling you where they were."

Pete relaxes a little then, dropping his hands as he admits, "I was a bit of a mess."

"A bit. Twelve thousand word-stream comments in two weeks, half worried you were about to launch yourself out of an airlock."

"And the other half saying to hurry up and do it already, I bet."

Patrick doesn't answer, just stands still as Pete moves in close, resting his head against Patrick's shoulder. Abruptly the tension in the room decreases and Bob sits back in his chair, thankful that Pete and Patrick aren't going to rip each other apart. Still, he can't help holding onto his own anger, that Patrick had known where Mikey and Frank were and hadn't said a word.

As if he knows what Bob's thinking, Patrick turns to Bob, smiling a little at his surprised look. "You feel angry and I can guess why, but we didn't know where they were exactly. Not then. We haven't a connection to them, not like Pete, and we weren't about to ask him. He comes first, you have to get that."

Bob does, and his anger fades slightly. "So why tell him now?"

Patrick doesn't look at Bob when he replies, just wraps his arm around Pete. "Because he's my best friend. Because I'd take a bullet for him. Because one way or another this needs to end."

Which is answer enough for Bob. "So you know the area they're in."

"Roughly. They’ve been moving a lot so you’ll have to track them down. We’re pulling together information for you now."

Bob looks at Pete. "Aren't you coming?"

"I'm the support act, not the main show." Pete takes the data pad out of Patrick's hand and pulls up a page. "You go and find Gerard and Ray; I've some things I need to do."

He leaves then and Patrick follows, stopping only to say, "I'd get ready as fast as you can, they've been moving on quickly."

Bob goes.

He finds Gerard and Ray easily, he always can now. It's like they're part of him, the connection getting stronger by the day.

"Bob, hey." Gerard waves a greeting. He's sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of pastries and a mug of coffee in his hand.

Ray reaches for the plate and pulls it to his side of the table. "You'd better hurry if you want one of these, Gerard's eating them all."

"Hey. Weeks on the Love and Death, months at the club eating those fucking protein spheres. It's nice to eat something that actually tastes good." Gerard looks at Bob then, mouth curled into a smile. "Not that your soup isn't delicious."

"It's better than the stuff I've been eating. They used to give us these bags full of goop," Ray says, grimacing. "It moved in your mouth."

"One night I'd drank through a few bottles and thought I saw a sausage on the floor. When I bit into it I found out it was a finger."

About to take a pastry, Bob pulls his hand away. "That's gross."

"I know, and like, they say human flesh tastes like fowl, but it doesn't, not really. Though that could have been the maggots." Gerard looks at Bob. "What do you think, would the maggots distort the taste?"

"I think you need to shut up." Bob pulls out a seat and sits next to Ray. "Seriously, how did you ever become his friend?"

"We met when I was too young to know any better," Ray says, and it's good to listen to this easy teasing, after days when they've both been almost wholly silent, trying to deal.

"As I remember, it was you who demanded I come out and play." Gerard takes a drink of coffee and then puts down his mug, seemingly unable to tell a story without accompanying hand gestures. "They needed another player for a game of kick."

"What I didn't know was Gerard couldn't kick a flutter ball if his life depended on it."

"I kicked it once," Gerard protested, and it's easy to tell he's waiting for a familiar response, his smile barely hidden.

"Into the wrong goal; we lost 6-5."

Ray grins. "Which is when Mikey came out and told us we all sucked. So Matt picked him up and held him upside down."

"So I kicked him and told him no one does that to my brother."

"No," Ray says. "What you said was. No one fucking does that to my fucking baby brother so put him the fuck down before I kick your fucking pansy ass."

"Right. Right." Gerard's grinning right back at Ray now. "That's when Helena came out and told me to watch my language and for Matt to let Mikey go. He did and she pretended not to notice when Mikey kicked Matt's shin, then she gave us all cookies and soda."

"She was the best."

"Yeah," Gerard agrees. He looks at Bob then, nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed. "You sound different."

Bob reaches over the table and steals Gerard's mug. He takes a drink of coffee, ignoring the resulting protests. He knows as soon as he tells his news these easy moments will be over, so takes the time to eat a pastry and finish off Gerard's drink before he says, "Patrick thinks he knows where Mikey and Frank are."

"What!?" Gerard's chair scrapes across the floor as he stands. Hands against the table he stares at Bob. "You knew that and sat here drinking coffee and eating? Letting us talk about the past?"

"There's nothing we can do yet. Pete's off getting some stuff, Patrick too. All we can do is wait."

"No, what I can do is go and see where they are. How long it'll take to get there. How did they find him? When? Are they sure it's actually them?"

"Gerard, stop." Bob wraps his fingers around Gerard's wrist and holds on. "Pete just found out." He doesn't say how Patrick's had suspicions for a while, just hopes that Gerard will accept this answer. "Apparently they've been blowing up slave ships."

"Blowing shit up, of course." Gerard wavers slightly and Bob tightens his hold. "Of course they're blowing shit up. I mean, it's them." He leans into Bob. "It is them, right?"

"It might be." Bob's making no promises, but it seems to be enough for Gerard. He stands up straight and Bob can feel his emotions change, his beat becoming louder. He throws his shoulders back as he stalks toward the door. Almost there, he turns, looking fierce.

"This has to end. There's people in this galaxy that are hurt and afraid and alone. They're out there screaming for help and we need to say, 'stop.' We need to go out there and make ourselves heard saying, 'no more slaves, no more lies. We know what's going on. We know and we won't hide. Frank and Mikey have the right idea. We can't sit back and pretend, not any longer. When I find my brother, when I find Frank, we're going to fucking scream, fuck you! Fuck you to those that oppress, that enslave, that use the lives of others. We will find you and we will end you, in Matt's name, in the name of those slaves that were put in front of the guards. Your time is fucking over. It's us now, our time."

Which is a speech far too full-on for this quiet room, but it's still impressive, and Bob loves seeing this side of Gerard, loves seeing his determination and his anger, the set of his body screaming a surety that this time, this time they'll succeed.

Part Four.
Master Post

Comments

[turloughishere.livejournal.com]

The Used! They're so awesome!! Bob loves them so much and they love him. And then right after that you killed Matt, you're so evil! I was already crying *sulks at you* (What a clever and terrible weapon! How did you come up with that?)

Bob and Pete commiserating about people never listening to them was hilarious!

Gerard and Ray talking about childhood memories was so sweet, there's so much love and friendship between them.

Is it wrong that I think Gerard finding a Cause and speechifying about it adorable? :-)

PS Found another collapsed paragraph break:

Patrick doesn't look at Bob when he replies, just wraps his arm around Pete. "Because he's my best friend. Because I'd take a bullet for him. Because one way or another this needs to end."
Which is answer enough for Bob. "So you know the area they're in."

[turps33.livejournal.com]

I'm so relieved The Used came across okay, especially as they're such an important part of the story.

Weapon wise, I wanted Matt to be the hero for once, and needed a way for him to die but not immediately. Being dissolved from the inside out seemed to fit. It's funny, when this was in beta A asked how this weapon worked, and I sat and just stared at the screen because it just did! *g* But I researched until I could get it sounding plausible. A also made me think of how Bob's craft actually worked, which led to more research. She's evil like that!

Bob and Pete are surrounded by people that go off and do their own thing regardless of consequences. Poor guys, they just want people to listen already!

Yeah, I tried to balance out the bad stuff with the moments showing that they had a lifetime of memories behind them, just uncomplicated things that they enjoyed.

Gerard was fired up! You know once they're all feeling better he'll be the one leading the anti-slavery rallies.

[turloughishere.livejournal.com]

I LOVED how you wrote the Used! It's such a short scene but you still managed to show the group dynamic and to at least hint at their different personalities.

Matt's death was so touching and sad!

The Love and Death is such an awesome ship and now I'm even more intrigued by it! Will some of the future explorations in this universe show more of how it works perhaps?