Sound Tracking 4/5

[turps]

Red light colours Patrick’s face as he points at the map. "The last confirmed sighting was in Li City, before that they were on Holatrak. Apparently they’re really good at hitching rides on craft."

"They’re good at getting what they want," Gerard says.

"Yeah." Pete’s leaning against the wall, his ankles crossed and he smiles slightly. "Between that look Mikey gives and Frank’s grin they could persuade anyone to do anything."

"Not everyone," Patrick says, pointedly. "The problem is, we don’t know where they’ve gone now."

"Did you contact Gabriel?" Pete asks.

Patrick rolls his eyes. "No, Pete. I didn’t think to contact him, what with him being based in Li City and all."

"So, what, you’ve lost them again?" Gerard says, the accusation obvious.

"It’s more they’ve lost themselves," Patrick bites back. "And you’ll be able to track them down easily enough; it’ll just take more time without a solid starting point."

Gerard heads for the door. "So what are we waiting here for?"

"Gerard, wait." Ray moves to stand close to the map, looking at the glowing points that show where Mikey and Frank have been seen. "It looks like they’ve been staying within a small area."

"As far as we know," Patrick agrees.

"Right." Ray turns to look at Bob. "I’m no expert and honestly? All that riding waves of sound stuff about how the Love and Death can achieve long distance sub space travel? I didn’t understand a word. But I do know she can go a hell of a long distance in a very short amount of time. So, considering they could go anywhere, doesn’t that suggest they’re sticking around for a reason?"

"That or they couldn’t get a ride," Bob says.

Patrick shakes his head. "I doubt it. That’s a busy port and Pete’s right. They tend to get what they want."

"Exactly," Ray says. "There has to be something that’s keeping them there."

"The Mosh!" Pete stands suddenly, gesturing excitedly. "It’s one of the biggest traveling music festivals in that sector."

It makes sense to Bob. For someone brought up on planet where music is illegal, a festival has to be a huge draw. Plus, they have to start somewhere. "Do you know where the festival is now?"

"Yeah." Patrick says. "The last stop is Gnrrekg, it ends today."

Gerard heads for the door again, says, "Let’s go."

~~~~

They load the Love and Death with more supplies. There's medication and food, and Andy pushes yet more fake steaks into Bob's hands, complete with a bottle of home-made sauce that he says Frank loves. Bob packs it all efficiently away, placing packets and boxes in cupboards and the pile of soft blankets on his bunk. All the while he itches to take off. Now that he knows a vague direction, he can concentrate and feel the beat of Frank and Mikey. It's distant, almost lost in a tangle of other sound, but he knows it's there. It pulls at him, a constant tug, and that feeling is only amplified by having Gerard and Ray so close.

"I packed some of their clothes; they didn't take much." Pete's holding a bag against his chest. He opens it, rifling through the contents, shirts and pants and a data pad pushed protectively in the middle. He sees Bob looking and taps the edge before covering it with a shirt. "It's what Frank was reading to Mikey, they didn't finish and I thought they might want to know the end." Abruptly he covers the pad and closes the bag. "Tell them. Tell them they're always welcome back."

Hands out, Bob takes the bag Pete thrusts his way. "I'll tell them, promise."

Pete nods and leaves.

Bob's left with directions to the planet where Mikey and Frank were last seen, a craft stuffed full of supplies and two men who're clearly not at their best. Ray's still tense and has a tendency to obey every command, even if it's not directed his way. Gerard, meanwhile, is running on nervous exhaustion, unable to sit still for even a moment.

Then there's Bob himself, he's mourning for his old crew while accepting one that's new. It still feels wrong at times, like he's betraying their memory, but he can't deny that this feels right. As he passes Ray, who's looking around the galley, interested in every device that Gerard excitedly points out, or trips over a pair of boots that have been left in the middle of the floor, Bob knows this is right. That the Love and Death is coming alive once more.

First though, she needs two more of her crew, and Bob seals the door and heads for the conn. "I'll be taking off in five. You'd better sit down."

Gerard nods and leads Ray to the bunks. Confident that Gerard will tell him what to expect, Bob goes up front and sinks down in his chair. He smiles slightly as he does so, content that he can finally take off. It's been a long time full of essential preparation, but now all he has to do is go. Taking hold of the headset he pulls it down, and relaxes into the hold of his craft. Hands outstretched he manipulates the lines that appear in his vision, glancing outside at the ribbons of sound that surround them. Moving one hand, he prepares to take off.

"Port Vanatrous, the Love and Death is ready to depart."

"Permission is granted Love and Death. Prepare to depart in, three, two, one, go."

The last thing Bob hears is Andy's voice as he says Good luck. Following instinctive actions Bob allows his craft to take off. Skimming the line of light, his body and mind thrown outwards until he hears everything, is everything. His bones are dust, his hands blurs of light. He's rocketing through space, brushing stars and plunging through suns, and then they're in orbit and he's pulled painfully back, infinity lost to a solid body and mind, aching as he gasps and sets his craft on the right path.

Taking off the headset he goes back to the bunks, worried about Ray. He finds him lying on his back, laughing as Gerard sits at his side, smile wide as he says, "See, didn't I tell you it's awesome?"

"You did," Ray says, and he pushes himself up so he can see Bob. "That felt amazing."

"It's even better up front," Bob says. "You can sit up there one day."

Ray seems delighted with that idea, and Bob's glad he offered, especially when Gerard pushes up against his side, wrapping his arm around Bob's thigh.

"I was thinking, Ray can have my bunk, and I'll take the one above."

Bob flinches, and Gerard looks up at him, his smile fading. "Sorry, bad idea."

"No, it's not." Bob hastens to reassure. "It's just; it hasn't been used for a while. But you're right. It'll have to be."

Gerard lets go and Bob pulls at the bunk, wrestling it down. This one's bare, just a thin mattress and Bob has hazy memories of a night wrapped in a blanket, soaking up his alcohol assisted tears. He thinks he jettisoned the blanket one day. It has probably burned up in a sun somewhere and Bob's thankful for the blankets Pete sent as he picks one up off the pile, flapping his hand so it unfolds.

"I'll help." Gerard stands and grabs the end of the blanket. He drapes it on the bunk and tucks it in messily, rolling his eyes when Bob redoes the corners.

"You know they'll just get kicked off again."

"Doesn't mean they don't have to be right," Bob says, and smooths his hand across the top of the blanket. He considers making up more bunks, but it seems presumptuous somehow. Instead he puts the spare blankets in a cupboard, along with the bag Pete left behind.

~~~~

Using a combination of leads provided by Patrick, questions and pure blind luck, they manage to track Mikey and Frank as far as the port at Gnrrekg city. The problem is, once there, they’re stuck, because now the festival is over, Mikey and Frank could have gone anywhere.

If Bob listens he can hear them faintly, pulling him away from this planet, but it’s not enough, and he’s ready to kick the nearest stationary object, frustrated at always being that one step behind.

“I guess we keep asking, then,” Ray says, sounding determined. He’s clutching a data pad that displays a picture of Mikey and Frank, and he looks at it before heading for two men who are sitting, chatting at an outdoor eating area.

Bob looks in the opposite direction, hitches his bag further up his shoulder and pulls his own data pad out of his pocket. “I’ll take the Gakvrg.”

“The hell?” Gerard looks at Bob strangely. “There’s nothing over there.”

Bob looks again, then points. “It’s right there.”

“That thing that looks like a pile of snot?”

“They usually prefer gelatinous pile, but yeah.”

“Cool.” Gerard’s grinning as he watches the Gakvrg ripple as it shifts in the sun. “Can I ask? Or will it not understand me?”

“It depends. Are you going to ask like a normal person or go into a ten minute rant about the unjust nature of slavery and the evil corrupt bastards who maintain the status quo by buying them, again?”

“He thought it was okay to own slaves,” Gerard says, and his beat is quickening, a wave of angry sound. “What was I supposed to do? Let him go without telling him what a disgusting fucking moron he was?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less.” Bob grins. “I especially liked you telling him you wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire.”

“Well I wouldn’t. Not one drop. I wouldn’t even shake off over him.”

“Oh god. You’re not talking kinks again are you? Because seriously?”

Bob turns to see Ray, who’s staring directly at Gerard.

“I did it once. Once. And I told you it wasn’t sexual. I was desperate and your shoes were handy.”

“I was wearing them.” Ray shakes his head and then gives up on the conversation by indicating the eating area. “I came over to tell you they’ve seen Mikey and Frank.”

Without another word, Gerard turns and almost runs to the table where the men are sitting. They’re drinking something that bubbles in a giant container in the middle of the table, sucking the blue liquid through two straws.

“Ray says you’ve seen them.” Gerard’s holding out his date pad, and one of the men nods.

“They were here at the beginning of the week. They were looking for a certain craft but it wasn’t due in then, so we shared a meal. Once Ke decided they were clean, anyway.” Slumping back in his chair, the man looks over the top of his sunglasses. “He has a thing.”

“And for good reason.” Putting his straw on the table, the man with long dark hair looks up at Gerard. “I keep a clean craft and they both looked out of it. Once I knew they weren’t they stuck around and ate with Aje and me.”

“For a while anyway,” Aje says. “Long enough for us to know they couldn’t pay.”

Gerard frowns, looking fierce. “So what did you do? Make them pay some other way?”

“No, I paid for them.” Ke looks at Gerard, considering. “I thought they needed something that came with no strings attached.”

“They do,” Gerard says. “And, I’m sorry. For thinking that. It’s just…”

“We’ve been traveling for most of our lives, we know,” Aje says, cutting Gerard off. “We offered them space on our craft but they were determined to wait for The Gull. I don’t know where they went after that, sorry.”

“There’s no need.” Bob steps close, his hand against Gerard’s side. “At least we know where they were going.”

“If you wait a few hours Oul will be on duty. He was guard the day we saw them. He may know something.” Ke takes a drink, making bubbles pop in the air and then puts down the straw once more. “When you find them, tell them it’s okay to stop moving sometimes.”

“I will,” Gerard promises.

They walk away then, and yet again prepare to wait.

~~~~

Gerard looks like he wants to jump out of his own skin. He's twitching as they wait, hands in his hair, scratching at his face and eventually Bob grabs for his hand, holding it in his own. "You need to settle down."

Wild-eyed, Gerard nods, and keeps watching the gate of the port. Each time it swishes open he jumps and Bob's wishing he’d sent him back to the Love and Death. Not that Gerard would have gone. They're too close now.

"Why didn't they stay here? We're so close; they should have known we were coming."

They're questions Gerard keeps asking, but there are no answers. Only back luck that means yet again they're just that step behind.

"To be fair, they have no way of knowing we're even alive." Ray's sitting on a metal bench, a bag containing supplies propped against his leg.

"They should know. Mikey should know I'm alive."

"You didn't see what we did at the club, he's got no idea you survived."

It's the first time Ray's mentioned the raid at the club, at least when Bob can hear. It feels like a story for another place, not this sunny park where they're sheltering under the shade of a giant tree, spiky pink blossoms fluttering to the ground with each gentle brush of breeze.

"He really thinks I'm dead," Gerard says, more to himself than anyone else.

"You're not, though. That's what's important. And we will find them, and we'll start by talking to him." Ray says. "That has to be Oul."

He points across the road where a guard is slithering along the sidewalk, leaving a gleaming trail behind. He's got a hat jammed on his head and has a data pad tucked under one his arms.

Immediately Gerard runs, stopping the guard with a hand to his chest. "We need to ask you a question."

The guard pushes himself upright and looks suspicious, taking a step back as he sees Bob and Ray walk close. "What kind of question?"

"We're looking for these people. We tracked them here and then found they'd moved on, getting passage on a craft." Turning to Ray, Gerard holds out his hand and Ray rummages in the bag, pulling out a data pad, passing it over. Scrolling through the pages, Gerard shows a picture, Mikey and Frank in Pete's house, both of them unsmiling.

"No, sorry. Never seen them before."

Oul makes to move, and Bob steps forward, taking charge of the conversation. "Look again; we know they were here when you were on shift." He looms over Oul and runs his hand over the stunner on his hip, satisfied when Oul gulps, the whole of his throat rippling.

"Let me see."

Gerard holds up the data pad again and the guard makes a show of looking intently. "Ah, I may have seen them after all. They were with the captain of The Gull, I thought they were the usual ports snips, spreading their legs for a ride. You know the kind, no use but for fucking."

Hearing the surge in beat, Bob steps to the side so he's blocking Gerard from the guard. "This craft, The Gull, where was it going?"

"The Maiox system I think. Captain Loupe goes there to trade. Not that the port snips will get there."

"And why's that?"

Oul laughs, obviously missing the anger barely hidden in Bob's tone. "They'll be sold onto the first slave trader barge in the area. That's if they're not already. Between you and me, that's where they belong; the little one was a twitchy fucker and the other-- Well, a looker if you like that kind of thing, but a few neutrons short of a system, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, I do," Bob says, and he steps aside.

"Normally I'm against violence, but for you." Gerard pulls back his arm, hand fisted as he punches the guard full force in the face, blood splattering as he falls to the ground. "They're worth a thousand of you, you gutless pathetic fuck."

They run off then, fleeing the scene as Oul struggles upright and starts yelling for help.

~~~~

It takes them nearly two days to catch up with The Gull.

The night period before, Bob's sitting in his bunk. It's quiet but he's unable to sleep when each time he closes his eyes he imagines failing once more. Instead he's sitting up, his blanket pulled up over his lap as he concentrates on the reassuring thread of Mikey and Frank's beat. They're so close now, their sound merging with Gerard and Ray's, and even Bob's own. When he hears a more immediate sound he's not surprised to see that Gerard's awake, and is sliding out of his own bunk and crawling into Bob's.

"Hi." Gerard wiggles under the blanket, and his bare feet are cold against Bob's leg. He leans back, eyes closed and the nervous tension is thick as he twists a strand of his hair around his finger, one way and then in reverse. Finally, Gerard says, "What if we've missed them again?"

It's a worry Bob shares, and he can't reassure without lying, because while he knows Mikey and Frank are close, he doesn't know where they are exactly. They could be on The Gull, they could have moved on already, and he knows Gerard knows that, too. In addition, this close Bob can't help wondering about what happens after. He's finally creating a new crew, but there's no guarantee that even if he does find the last two, that anyone will want to stay. For all he knows, Bob could be left alone once again.

"If they've gone I'll keep following."

"I know you will," Gerard says. His eyes are shining in the dim light and he's biting at the corner of his lip. "I'm scared."

It's not a surprising admission, and after a moment of hesitation Bob lifts his arm, indicating that Gerard should move in closer. He does and Bob rests his arm around Gerard's shoulders. When they're settled comfortably, he says, "Why?"

"That they won't be there. That they are and I won't know what to say. Frank's one of my best friends, Mikey's my brother and I'm worried about how to talk to them. It's fucking pathetic."

"I'd say realistic. You haven't seen them for over a year."

"Exactly." Gerard rests his head against Bob's shoulder. "If I'd been with them..."

"Haven't we had this conversation?"

"A few times," Gerard admits. "But I can't help feeling guilty. I made a promise I'd always look after Mikey; it's what big brothers do."

"You have nothing to be guilty about," Bob says. "You never gave up. You risked traveling with a complete stranger just for the chance to find your band. I think you're keeping that promise and then some."

Gerard turns his head so his nose is against Bob's neck. "It wasn't a risk traveling with you."

"I could have been a murderer who wanted to eat you and use your skin as a coat."

"Right, you walked so far just to eat scrawny old me," Gerard says, and Bob can feel his smile. "Face it, you're a pussycat with a rescue complex."

There's nothing Bob can say to disagree.

"Just for the record, I don't think you're scary either." Bob looks up and sees first Ray's hair, then his face as he looks down from the above bunk. "But if you two aren't going to shut up, how about we end this night period already?"

It's a sensible suggestion. Bob's not sleepy at all and Gerard's wide awake. Regretfully pulling away, Bob climbs over Gerard and slides off the edge of his bunk, avoiding Ray's trailing hair. "I'll go and check how close we are, if one of you can sort out breakfast."

Bob's under no illusions that anyone will eat, but he needs coffee and lots of it. It's going to be a long day and as he pulls on his socks and boots he's already running through the things they need to do: approaching The Gull and getting on board being the most vital. That means organising things to trade or some other kind of ruse, because the facts are, they'll never get on by force, the other craft is just too big.

A quick check up front and Bob's back, sitting at the pull-down table. Before it was left attached to the galley wall, hidden away with the memories that were focused on talk-filled meals and endless holo card games. Now it's usually left down and Bob sits on one of the magnetic chairs, drinking coffee as Ray scrubs at the counter and Gerard picks at a pastry, the crumbs scattering on the floor.

He takes a bite then pushes the pastry away. "Have you decided what to offer in trade?"

Bob has. He's got food and medical supplies, nearly a full tank of water. The problem is, those things aren't enough, not for a craft like The Gull. To get an audience Bob needs more, and he thinks of the belongings packed away in the storage hold. The instruments especially are valuable, the guitars and a small set of drums, even a tambourine, frayed ribbons tied to the sides. Yet more memories -- nights crammed together, listening to Bert sing, the music filling the hold -- and Bob knows if he has to, he can finally let them go.

"Yeah." Bob drains his coffee and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "There's some stuff in the hold."

"Right," Gerard says. He grinds a crumb under his finger and looks at Bob through his hair. "After, I'll pay you back."

"No you won't," Bob says. When it looks like Gerard's going to protest, Bob stands. "I'm going to see if we're within range."

No one follows, and Bob slips into his chair at the conn. He takes a moment to look around, at the distant stars that shimmer brightly and the empty darkness of space. It should be cold, stark, but to Bob it's his home, welcoming him as he slips on the headset, revealing the lines that are his craft and beyond. Reaching out he skims over the beats of Frank and Mikey then follows another, feeling it out, listening until he's sure it's The Gull. Positive, Bob concentrates until he can sense the beat that has to be Captain Loupe.

Bob flexes his right fingers, bringing up a screen. He uses his left hand to signal for communication, repeating the command until finally someone replies in swirling, brightly lit tendrils of sound.

"You want something, craft?"

Concentrating on calm, Bob replies. "I'm Captain Bryar and I want to trade."

"A craft so small has nothing of interest to us."

Knowing the connection is about to be cut, Bob says, "I have medical supplies, food, instruments from a past crew."

The offer is out there and Bob has nothing else to give. He waits, hating that he has to play this game.

"Connect to my craft and we'll talk."

The communication ends and Bob wipes his palms on his thighs, fighting anger and impending loss as he steers toward The Gull.

They meet in less than an hour. The Gull dwarfs Bob's craft and he feels ill-prepared as he docks, the two crafts linking together by a large tube that extends from The Gull's side. They attach with a soft bump and Bob can't help his nerves as he takes off his headset. They're so close now and Bob takes a moment, breathing in an attempt to calm himself before he goes back to Ray and Gerard. They're waiting at the bunks, sitting side by side and when they see Bob, they both stand.

"I assume we're here." Gerard's still now, focus pulled in.

"We're docked," Bob says, and he steps past, ready to open the door. Before he does he looks back, because they've discussed this, both Gerard and Ray should know what to do, what to say. But Bob can't help picturing everything that could go wrong, because going aboard the other craft is insane. He wants to tell them to stay.

"Don't," Gerard says. He's standing tall, chin up and shoulders back, and when he looks at Bob he's deadly calm. "I'm coming, no matter what you say."

Bob nods, looking at Ray who stares back in return and Bob knows there's no way he's doing this alone, the knowledge makes him feel good as he starts the sequence to open the door. It slides to the side, and ahead is the airlock to The Gull; a stark white space before a closed door.

"Let's do this."

Gerard steps through first, then Bob and Ray. They have to stand close as the door to the Love and Death slides closed, and air circulates, cool and artificial-tasting. Finally, the other door opens, and they're faced with a slight humanoid man, his ginger hair slicked back. He greets them with a sneer. "I’m Turl, and I’m going to take you to the captain. First though, I need you to hand over any weapons."

Bob knows this is an order and not a request, and despite his misgivings, if he wants to see the captain he’s got no choice but to agree. Taking his stunner, he hands it over. “The others are unarmed.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Bob stands still, biting back his anger when Turl lingers over patting down first Gerard then Ray. When it’s his turn, Bob holds out his hands, growling under his breath when Turl draws out each touch.

“I can guarantee there’s nothing hidden there,” Bob says, and Turl steps back, taking his hand away from Bob’s inner thigh.

“Captain Loupe requires I’m thorough.”

“I’m sure he does,” Bob says, and he steps onto The Gull, Gerard and Ray just behind.

The door slides shut behind them and Bob looks around, taking in the curving walls and dim lights, a craft that just feels wrong. The beats contained within it are varied, both weak and strong, and the main melody is harsh, harmonious still, but in a way that makes Bob's skin crawl. Positioning himself so he's between Turl and the others, Bob listens as he walks. It takes seconds to hear Mikey and Frank. When he does he sees Gerard stiffen and falter slightly before Ray pushes him on, and Bob knows he's felt them too. Bob glances back and looks at Gerard, hoping he understands this isn't the time.

They walk through endless grey corridors, their footsteps dull against the floor, the sound blending with others within this craft. Everywhere there are echoes of past pain and suffering, and Bob's anger is growing all the while. It takes all his experience to keep it tamped down, to appear uncaring as they're led to the main conn.

"The Captain will be here in a moment," Turl says, he steps back, his hip cocked against a console and examines Bob’s stunner as they wait.

Taking the time offered to regroup; Bob steps closer to Ray and Gerard.

"There's something wrong," Gerard says, hissing the words. He still looks calm, but the cracks are appearing, and Bob can't blame him. There's something seriously off about this craft.

"As long as we can hear them they're fine," Bob says, trying to convince himself as well as the others. "We do as we planned, offer the trade and take it from there."

Gerard looks unconvinced, but still nods an agreement, then looks over to the side of the room when a door slides open and someone who has to be Captain Loupe appears.

He's short and dressed in a flowing white robe that skims the ground as he walks. He smiles a welcome as he sits in the command chair and rests his hands on his round stomach. "Captain Bryar I assume."

"Captain Loupe," Bob says. He inclines his head in a greeting. "I come offering you trade."

"Indeed." Captain Loupe stares at Bob, at Gerard and Ray, sizing them up. He frowns; shaking his head sadly. "I feel our trade is too rich for the likes of you."

Bob takes a step forward. "I have food, water, medical supplies."

"And I have no need for such things."

"I have instruments."

There's a flash of interest but it's quickly concealed. About to press the advantage Bob falls silent when Gerard steps forward.

"These instruments originate from the planet Steriska, where music has been banned since the gig riots of times past. They've survived history itself and have taken on the memories of those that held them. You'll see the blood that has seeped into each one. When you strum the strings, the pain of thousands will be revealed. When you bang the drums the rhythm will echo with those that died. These instruments are unique, no other in all the sectors are such a prize." Gerard speaks slowly, and with a deliberate lingering over the more sordid details in the offering.

Bob nods an agreement, and tries not to think of how they gained the instruments in trade, handing over a case of Teaklin Firewater in exchange.

"And you think such things will be of interest to me? Items gained from pain and suffering?"

"I sense you're a man who appreciates history, someone who cares about people," Gerard says, and he approaches Captain Loupe, earnestness displayed for all to see. "A man who understands the important of the past and how it ties to our future. Your reputation as a great warrior proceeds you, but I feel you have another side. The kind that would feel the past lives of those instruments and understand their needs."

It's one of the most ridiculous things Bob has ever heard, but Captain Loupe seems pleased.

"I do consider myself a cultured man and one at one with the universe's… emotions." He licks his lips and then draws the sleeve of his robe over his perspiration-damp forehead. "I provisionally accept your trade. Go bring the instruments to me; I look forward to touching the blood stains with my own hands."

"Once we see what you'll trade in return," Bob says immediately, taking back control of the conversation.

"Of course," Captain Loupe says, but despite the easy agreement, his anger bubbles close to the surface. "I'll take you to the hold myself."

It's not an ideal situation. They're herded from the room with Captain Loupe behind, Turl taking the lead. There's no talking at first, then Ray glances at Bob and lags behind, until he's walking close to Captain Loupe.

"So, do you like piloting a craft?" It's the most inoffensive of small-talk, and Ray apparently doesn't care that he gets no reply, just keeps talking despite being ignored. "I've never tried it myself. I'm more a kitchen man; I make a mean self-heating soup. Have you ever tried them? You should, you’re obviously a man who likes his food."

As a distraction it's perfect, especially as Ray's small-talk feels genuine, like he's enjoying this one-sided conversation with a man who's looking at him like he's scum.

Taking the opportunity, Bob walks close to Gerard, their hands brushing together as he leans in and says softly, "The hold, watch and wait." It's all he dares say as he reminds Gerard not to try something too soon. Because the beats of Mikey and Frank are strong here, so distinct that it's easy to pick out the nuances of sound, the fear and helplessness and Bob's thankful that Gerard's saved from that, can still only hear the most basic of sounds.

They seem to take a looping route to the hold, walking along corridors and then back once more and Bob knows it's a deliberate ploy. But he focuses in on the Love and Death and keeps walking, until finally they stop next to a door, Turl opening it with a swipe of his hand.

The area inside is bigger than the whole of Bob's craft, stuffed full of crates and boxes, all stacked up in long lines. It's an impressive sight, but all Bob can concentrate on is the beats of Mikey and Frank, closer than they've ever been. Breath misting, they walk inside and Captain Loupe indicates the crates with a swipe of his hand.

"Jaseder pelts. Bishyl meat. Data pads containing all the famous tales of history. I offer one crate for trade."

Bob looks at the crates and back to Captain Loupe. Turl has jumped onto a box and appears more interested at picking at his nails, but under the false smile the Captain's gaze is sharp, impatient. Bob decides to take a chance.

"I was hoping for something fresher, something along the lines of live trade."

"Milos has been raising Hamyaks," the Captain says, and he crosses his arms across his chest and leans against a crate. "He'll be heart-broken to lose them; therefore for those my price is higher."

"It's a tempting offer, but not what I'm looking for." Glancing at Gerard, Bob sends him a silent sorry then takes a mirroring stance to Captain Loupe. "Rumours say you deal with fresher meat."

Captain Loupe doesn't reply at first, just looks directly at Bob. "That depends if you can afford that trade."

"I can. The instruments plus more. A man has needs."

"They're not enough for you?" The Captain laughs and leers at Gerard. "I'd take the dark one if you don't want him, though he is a little old for my taste."

"Oh I want him." Bob matches the leer, hating how still Gerard gets, his cheeks flushed red. "But he's part of my crew and as such needs to be functional, I need something for, how can I say it? Rougher games."

Again, Captain Loupe remains silent, and Bob's beginning to think he's made a mistake, but finally Loupe stands up straight and says, "Turl, show them the special stock."

"Fine," Turl says. He slides to the ground and walks between the towering crates, his arms crossed, goose-bumps on his bare arms.

"You're a lucky man, captain. Normally I have nothing of this kind on this leg of my route, but these two invited themselves on board." Captain Loupe sneers and shakes his head. "Can you believe they thought they could blow up my craft? Two port snips like that? I think not."

"You caught them in the act?" Bob asks.

"Apparently they thought warming my bed meant they were trusted." Loupe laughs, flexing his hands into fists. "I soon showed them the truth."

"It's the only way," Bob says, hating himself for saying the words. He feels sick at the approving look Loupe sends his way, and channels that into controlled anger as they squeeze through a narrow gap that ends in another empty space. Except, as Bob looks, he sees a row of cages along the wall, so small that it's impossible for anyone to stand, and in two of them, Mikey and Frank. They've changed since the pictures Bob has seen, but they're easily recognisable, huddled up and leaning against the bars of the empty cage between them. When they see Turl appear, Frank leaps forward and starts to yell, "You mother-fucking bastard, you'd better let us go!"

"As you see, he has spirit. Breaking him would be interesting, or maybe you prefer a more docile fuck? I assure you, the silent one is good."

Captain Loupe has his hand on Bob's shoulder, as if they're suddenly friends and Bob has to work hard not to shudder at the touch. Instead he looks at Gerard, sensing that things are going to escalate; and fast. Gerard's face has lost all colour and his beat is one of fury, hurtling out of control. It's something that can't be missed and both Captain Loupe and Turl turn toward him, their own sound rapidly changing from surprise to anger as Gerard runs toward the cages.

"Mikey! Mikey!"

He drops to his knees and tugs at the bars, back turned toward Turl who's aiming Bob’s stunner.

"Oh fuck, no!" Ray leaps forward and jumps on Turl’s back. They both fall to the floor, snarling as they roll, Turl trying to get off a shot. Bob wants to help Ray, but Captain Loupe is making his own move, pulling out his stunner that’s been concealed in his robe. He fires and Bob jumps to the side, gasping as he feels his arm go numb. He falls to one knee and Captain Loupe looms above him and Bob knows he's got seconds to act. Making a fist he slams it directly into Captain Loupe’s crotch.

"Fucker!" Going to shoot Bob's head, Loupe over-balances when Bob follows up by elbowing him behind the knee, making him crash to the ground. Knowing this is his only chance; Bob grabs the stunner from Loupe’s hand and pushes it against his neck and fires, swallowing hard at the smell of cooking flesh.

"No!"

Turl is on his back, Ray kneeling above him. He's got both hands fisted in Turl’s shirt, and is pulling him up and slamming his body against the floor. Each time Turl hits with a harsh smack, but he's still fighting back, his struggles intensifying when he sees Bob stand over Captain Loupe. Blocking off any emotion, Bob finishes Loupe off with a laser to the chest.

"Code nine in the hold." As soon as Turl yells alarms sound and the hold is illuminated with blinding light. He looks triumphant as he starts to speak again. “I repeat..."

Ray makes a fist and thumps Turl hard in the face. He goes silent, head falling to the side, but Ray keeps hitting, slamming his fist into Turl’s face over and over. "That's for Frank. For Mikey. For thinking slavery is okay. For Bob. Gerard. Me. Matt." Breathing hard, his knuckles and nose bleeding, Ray's shaking when Bob grabs hold of him, wrapping his fingers around Ray's tensed arm.

"That's enough." He pulls Ray to his feet, understanding the compulsion to keep hitting, but they need to get out of here, and fast. Pulling Ray toward the cages, Bob kneels next to Gerard, who's still pulling at the bars.

"I can't get them open."

"There's a control on his gloves." Frank's pressed into the very corner of the cage, as close to them as he can get. He's looking from Gerard to Ray as if he can't believe they're there.
"Right," Bob says, and goes back to Turl. He quickly finds the control glove won't come off and knowing it’s the only thing to do; Bob lasers off the arm, severing it through the entwined triangles that are branded on his skin. Picking it up by the wrist, he holds it in front of the lock and it opens with a click. Immediately Frank runs out, stepping on Turl as he grabs hold of Ray and holds on, clinging tight.

Bob's too late to do the same to Mikey's cage. Gerard's already grabbed hold of the severed hand, holding it against the cage as he looks at Mikey’s who’s kneeling on the other side of the bars, his arms pushed through them so he can touch Gerard. The locks open and Mikey crawls out and launches himself forward.

Neither speaks; Gerard holding tight, his arms wrapped around Mikey, and Mikey's hugging just as tight in return, his face pressed against Gerard’s neck.

"We need to go." Bob pulls at Gerard's shirt. "The others in the crew will be coming."

Bob can hear them coming, their beats on alert and he knows they've got a matter of minutes to get away. He tugs at Gerard again, and he finally breaks the hug, but still holds onto Mikey’s hand.

"You've got a craft?" Mikey asks, and he looks nervously toward the main hold.

"It's docked," Bob says, and Mikey nods. He looks at Frank, communicating in a flurry of non-words. "We know the way, come on."

He runs, Frank at his side. Bob following once he picks up his stunner from under Turl’s body and blasts him in the chest, making sure he’s really dead.

They take a different route back to the Love and Death, running headlong along a corridor and behind them Bob can hear the sound of footsteps and then cries of anger when Captain Loupe and Turl are discovered. Those sounds spur them on, and Bob's breathing hard, forcing Gerard to keep running that little bit faster when they see the dock.

"The control glove," Frank says. "Where is it?"

Gerard reaches inside his shirt and pulls out the arm. “Here.”

Taking it, Frank holds it against the control and the door to the docking tube opens. They all hurry inside and Bob stands guarding the entrance, stunner pointing toward the corridor of The Gull as the door closes again. When it does there’s the familiar taste of recycled air, and then, finally, the door of the Love and Death can be opened.

Bob does, and immediately runs to the conn, looking back once to make sure everyone is on board. Jumping into his seat he pulls down the headset and takes off, blasting away without caring about direction or speed. He just flies, getting as much distance between them and The Gull as possible. Trembling through the initial surge of flight, Bob's arm throbs with pain that ripples in waves. It stays with him as his awareness is thrown outwards, ribbons of sound and light and as much as it hurts, it's tempting to stay hidden in this universe. Because Bob knows when he goes back it's to a complete crew, but one that's fractured in more ways than he'd ever imagined.

Still, he can't keep flying forever, and eventually Bob sets in co-ordinates that'll keep them hidden in the shadow of a moon. He takes off his headset and groans, his arm cradled against his chest as he lies back and listens. The melody of the Love and Death is one of re-birth and new beginnings, but at the same time it's not right. Sound is misplaced, jagged in places where it should be smooth. Pushing himself to his feet, Bob goes to see his new crew.

He discovers Ray sitting on one bunk, Mikey and Frank on the other. Gerard is kneeling in front of Mikey, but unlike before, there’s distance between and Mikey’s pulled in tight, arms crossed and when Gerard does touch he jerks back and snaps, "Don't."

"I just. You're hurt," Gerard says and he looks stricken when he looks at Bob. "His wrists, you need to take a look."

"I can do it myself, or Frank can." Mikey slides closer to Frank, never looking at Gerard.

"Let him look," Frank says, and he smiles up at Bob. "Hi, I'm Frank."

It's a small smile, but real, and Bob can't help responding with one of his own, even as he’s wondering what’s gone on in the time he’s been away. "Bob."

"Gerard says you're the one who saved us," Frank says, and without warning he's jumping up and hugging Bob tight. "Thank you."

Awkwardly, Bob pats Frank's back. "All I did was provide a craft."

"And came and got me, and went to a shatter planet and tracked everyone down and...."

Bob cuts Gerard off. "It's not like I did it on my own."

"Whatever," Gerard says, "We all know the truth."

"Yeah, we do." Mikey stands, putting distance between him and Gerard. "The truth is it seems it took a stranger to come and get us, while my big brother sat on his ass in the club and moped." The words are soft, but sharp, and Mikey clenches his jaw. "Is there somewhere private in this thing, a bathroom?"

"Over there," Ray says, and Mikey takes off, almost running to get away.

"He didn't mean it." Frank's still holding on, and Bob can sense how tired he is as he lets go and turns to Gerard. "He's just... He knows you won't hit back."

Which may be true, but Bob can't help feeling angry. Gerard's hand is resting against the scars on his neck and he's looking at the floor, his hurt so obvious that Bob wants to haul Mikey out of the bathroom and shake him. Instead he looks at Frank, taking in the bruises and the welts around his wrists. Gently, Bob pushes him toward the bunk. "Sit down, these need fixing up."

"I should..." Frank looks toward the bathroom, then slumps down. "Thanks."

Thanks to Pete, the medical supplies are better now, and Bob opens the case that’s been set on the floor. Opening it up he takes out packets of sterilised gauze and antiseptic and starts to take out a pain patch before Frank shakes his head.

"I don't need it."

Bob doesn't believe him. Frank's moving slowly as if he's aching all over and he's favouring one hip, his hands torn and covered in dried blood. Picking up the patch, Bob says, "It won't knock you out, promise."

Eyes widening, Frank looks over at Bob's shoulder at Ray. Whatever he sees must reassure him as he holds out his arm and watches as Bob smooths on the patch. "I have to be on alert, I didn't mean... I don't think..."

"It's okay, you don't have to explain." Bob takes the bowl of warm water that Gerard hands over, and soaks some gauze. Carefully he cleans Frank's hands, cleaning out the cuts and using tweezers to remove the remains of torn nails. Frank never says a word, just sits and silently does as Bob asks. He keeps his eyes open when Bob tilts back his head so he can clean the cut along Frank's jaw. When asked, he shrugs out of his shirt, exposing the bruises on his side and the welts that crisscross his back.

They're the injuries Bob expected to see, and he deals by methodically tending to each one. He concentrates only on the wounds and what he can do to help--Ray's increasingly macabre thoughts about what he wants to do to Captain Loupe’s body and Gerard's pleas to Mikey nothing but a background blur of sound. Finally, when he reaches the bruising that darkens under the waist band of Frank's pants, Bob straightens. "I can do the rest, or give you the stuff to do it yourself."

Frank holds out his hand and Bob gives him a variety of medical supplies. "I'd say go in the bathroom so that you could get cleaned up after, but...."

"It's okay, he'll let me in." Frank sounds sure and he takes more supplies out of the case. "I'll fix Mikey up while I'm in there." He stands and flashes Ray a reassuring smile before walking to the bathroom. It's off the side of the kitchen, and Gerard is leaning close, cheek against the door as he talks, his voice already wearing with the repetition of quiet pleas.

"Mikey, please. Let me in. Please."

"I'll talk to him," Frank says, and he rests against Gerard, head against his shoulder. "Mikey, it's me. Let me in."

A brief hesitation and Mikey opens the door enough that Frank can slide inside, leaving Gerard standing alone. Bob starts to clean his own injury, angrily tearing open a packet of burn cream and squeezing it out along his arm before starting to rub it in.

"You'll hurt yourself." Ray reaches out and places his hand on Bob's arm.

"It already hurts."

"Well, you'll hurt it more." Taking the antiseptic, Ray sprays his own hands and starts to gently rub in the cream. "They'll work things out, they always do."

Bob isn't so sure. He hates how lost Gerard looks and can't help feeling resentful that it's Mikey--the person they've searched so hard to find--causing it.

Ray looks at Gerard, but he keeps working the cream into Bob's wound. "They've always been close, and the thing is, when you have that kind of bond you know what to say that'll hurt the most. I don't believe for a minute Mikey thinks Gerard let him down."

"Gerard does. Believes."

"Gerard's always had a saviour complex," Ray says, fond exasperation in the statement. "That it's Mikey just makes it even worse." Ray finishes rubbing and wipes his hands on a dry piece of gauze then picks up a pain patch despite Bob's warning look. "There's enough hurting going on around here, why take on more?"

It's a valid point and Bob smooths the patch onto his upper arm. Immediately the pain begins to ease and he starts to gather up the empty packets and the bowl that contains the dirty gauze. Tipping the water into the recycle unit, he puts the bowl to clean and the trash in a container.

"Let me help, I can do that at least." Gerard takes the container of trash and takes it to the incinerator. It takes him four attempts before he can slot it into the gap at the top and Bob's ready to do it for him when Gerard finally manages and then braces his hands against the nearby counter, his head bowed. "Fuck. I can't even… I can't do a fucking thing right."

"You do plenty right." Bob says. Then, guessing that this isn't really about the incinerator shoot, "He doesn't mean it."

"You don't know him; he always means what he says."

There's nothing Bob can say in reply, because he doesn't know Mikey. He's not sure he wants to know him, and some of that thought must bleed out because Gerard stands and turns so he's looking directly at Bob.

"He's not always like this. He's awesome. He's… So, so talented, and funny, and once you get to know him you'll see that too." Some of the frustration pours off of Gerard, allowing the despondency to return. "That is, if he sticks around."

"He'll stick around, even if I have to lock him in the bathroom to make it happen."

Gerard smiles a little then, and Bob doesn't say that he means every word.

"Hopefully it won't come to that."

"It won't." The bathroom door opens and Frank looks out. "We can hear every word in there, you know. Your walls aren't soundproofed very well."

"Sorry, next stop I'll soundproof it just for you."

Frank grins then, and leans out a little further. "You do that, but until then, I don't suppose you have any clothes we can wear? These are kind of wrecked."

"I've something better than that, Pete sent this." Bob goes and gets the bag Pete sent, handing it over to Frank.

"You've met Pete?" Frank sounds shocked, and Bob realises there's so much that they need to know.

"He helped find you."

"Good. That's…good." Sounding uncertain, the bag held to his chest, Frank goes back inside, shutting the door behind him.

The next hours are awkward. Mikey emerges from the bathroom, but he's still not talking and Gerard tries to fill in the gaps by talking too much. He's sitting at the table, telling some story no one is listening to, and Bob's head is aching from lack of sleep and the tension filling his craft. It's like they've swapped one bad situation for another, this one being one he has no idea how to fix. All he wants is for this day to end.

"I'm going to pull down the other bunks." Bob puts down the remains of his cold coffee and looks at the bunks. Three are already down; he needs to make another two. Suspecting he's going to end in the very top bunk, the one where his nose is inches from the ceiling, he starts to pulls down the one above Gerard's when Frank says, "One will do, I'll be sharing with Mikey."

Mikey and Frank are wearing the clothes Pete sent, their bruises more apparent now that they're clean. Right now they're sitting in Bob's bunk, pressed close together, Frank taking a protective position, despite the fact his hands are shaking with the effort to stay still.

"I'll help." Gerard stands, too, gathering up blankets and pillows, taking an excessive amount of time to ensure the corners are perfect and the covers smooth. When it's done he climbs into his own bunk and crawls under the blanket, pulling his data pad from under the pillow. He switches it on, and the light bleeds over his face, throwing it into shadows.

He's not reading, really just watching Frank and Mikey over the top of the pad. Ray's napping in his own bunk, and Bob can't help comparing now to before. It's unfair, and he knows that. But as he tidies the kitchen, scrubbing at counters that aren't even dirty, he remembers nights watching bad 3D movies. Time spent in the hold, listening to the others play. Laughing as he flew through an asteroid storm, Bert swearing as he clutched at the back of Bob's chair.

They're memories Bob cherishes, full of light and life, as opposed to now, when he's surrounded by people who've survived, but are drowning under their own fears. Bob doesn't exclude himself in that assessment.

When everything is gleaming, and Mikey and Frank are lying down--wrapped close together, their backs to the rest of the room--all Bob can do is climb into his new space, try and get comfortable under the cold blanket, and close his eyes, hoping for sleep.

Bob does sleep; for all of an hour. He's woken by a plea of no, please. Heart racing, he's reaching for his stunner when he realises it's Mikey who's making the noise. He's curled up tightly, his eyes closed, hands held up against some invisible foe. Avoiding Mikey's hands, Frank sits up, his knees pulled to his chest and the blanket trailing to the floor.

"Mikey, shhhh, it's okay." Frank sounds exhausted and his beat is sluggish, as opposed to Mikey's which is all panicked ridges and peaks of sound. "You're safe now, remember? Safe. Gee… Um, they came. They came and found us."

He's careful not to touch Mikey at all, just keeps talking, his voice pitched low. But it's not helping and after a painfully long time, when Mikey's moved from outright panic to hitching, defeated cries, Gerard climbs out of his bunk and sits next to Frank.

"I'll stay with him," Gerard says, and he puts his arm around Frank's shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug. "Go on, get in my bunk, you need to sleep."

"I don't know." Frank sounds unsure, but he's visibly wilting and eventually says, "Okay, yeah."

Gerard kisses Frank on the side of the head. "You know I'll look after him."

"I know," Frank says, and he looks at Mikey again before climbing into Gerard's bunk.

Left alone, Gerard glances up at Bob, then turns so he's sitting on the very edge of Mikey's space. For a moment he just looks at Mikey, and Bob thinks that if Mikey could look over, could really see Gerard now he'd have no delusions that Gerard doesn't care. Because the love Gerard feels is obvious, the lines of his face softening as he reaches out, not touching but skimming his hand over Mikey's shoulder.

"Hey, Mikes. I know I haven't got anything you want to hear right now, but remember this song? Helena used to sing it to you." Gerard clears his throat then and begins to sing. "Hush little Mikey don't say a word, grandma's going to buy you a trilling bird. If that trilling bird don't sing. Grandma's going to buy you a saturn ring. If that saturn ring turns to dust, Grandma's going to buy you some hossyak musk. If that hossyak musk goes sour, grandma's going to buy you shooting star shower. If that shooting star shower burns out, grandma's going to buy you-- Buy you...."

Bob leans over the bunk and sings softly, "A uni mount."

Gerard smiles a quick thanks. "Grandma's going to buy you a uni mount. If that uni mount falls down, you'll still be the best little boy in town. So hush little Mikey don't you cry. Because grandma loves you and so do I."

As Gerard sings, Mikey settles slightly, his body relaxing.

"You remember that one? It was one of your favourites, and every time you asked what a hossyak was and why the uni mount fell down." Gerard laughs softly. "You were an annoying kid at times. Mostly though, mostly you were awesome." After a moment, a hitched breath, Gerard risks, "You still are. No matter what happened. But enough of that. Do you remember this song?"

Gerard sings again, and again, and despite himself Bob can't help dropping off to sleep, Gerard's singing a faint echo in his dreams.

Part Five.
Master Post

Comments

[turloughishere.livejournal.com]

The bit at the beginning when Bob feels how the Love and Death is starting to come to life again is lovely, how it also hints at what's coming at the end how even if he's got a crew again they're still not a unit.

Your Gerard is wonderful, he's just a bit larger than life in all his complexities. The tension between him and Mikey at the end made me so sad.

PS I think something must have happened to your Word settings when you wrote this because at the beginning of this section (until They walk away then, and yet again prepare to wait.) all the quotation marks are back to being curly instead of straight. Also, this sentence/paragraph lacks an ending:

“The Mosh!” Pete stands suddenly, gesturing excitedly. “It’s one of the biggest traveling music festivals

And you've got a collapsed paragraph break again here:

"I can do it myself, or Frank can." Mikey slides closer to Frank, never looking at Gerard.
"Let him look," Frank says, and he smiles up at Bob. "Hi, I'm Frank."

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Yeah, poor Bob. He gets what he wants and it's just wrong, and he doesn't know how to fix it. Honestly, he can't fix it, all he can do is be there when needed.

The Mikey and Gerard tension broke my heart! At least you know I wouldn't leave it like that :)