<FWG> (Shadowdancer) "No New Tomorrows"
- From: groundzero@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- To: fwgalaxy@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Fri, 06 Jul 2007 01:38:22 -0700
"No New Tomorrows"
by Shane Taggart
& Trey Onadan
Special Guest Writer:
Jennifer Black as Taella Chendrel
Trey was tired of sitting in the desolate corridor. The walls felt as if they
had been closing in on him and it was making him uncomfortable. It had been a
while since Shane had left and there had been no word of success or failure -
uncertainty, Trey found, was quite unsettling. Instinctively he began to pace.
His overall goal: wear a hole in the deck plating. "He should've been back by
now."
"I know," she replied, examining her fingers closely for signs of wear on the
polished nails. "Maybe we should call."
Shaking his head, he continued his repetitive gait. "No, he told us not to.
But, he didn't say anything about going after him. Although I have no idea
where he was going. God, damn it, Shane. He never lets anyone know where he's
going. He says he's protecting us, but we could be protecting him." Pivot
again, retracing his steps. Turn, another cross. "This doesn't smell right."
"You don't think he's dead, do you?"
"Shane? Hardly. Capture? Being tortured? Sittin' at a bar while we rot here?
All things that I wouldn't put past our illustrious leader." His words dripped
with sarcasm. Finally, Trey stopped and stared out the grating that Shane had
crawled through what seemed like an eternity before. "Should we go after him?"
"He told us to wait, kid," Taella warned. "And wait we will."
"Sitting ducks." Trey said flatly, resuming his pace.
"Pacing ducks, more like."
He had the guttural instinct to turn on her, lash out at her inability to
understand his relationship with his mentor, but he held it in. Trey swivelled
slightly, barely looking over his shoulder at her, "He's like my brother, all
right? I care about him. I don't want to see him heart, but more importantly, I
don't want to end up a heap of rotting flesh in a back alley." He looked
around, "I'm one last breath away from being just that."
Her dark brown eyes rolled. "You're young and emotional. You'll be fine. He'll
be fine."
"And you'll still be a bitch."
A sweet smile. "You like it."
"It's endearing." Trey started pacing once again, "Endearing like a Klingon
mating ritual."
The smile turned smug and smirking. "I knew you wanted me. You mention Klingons
-- does that mean you like it rough?"
Trey stopped, then turned to face her. "You said you wouldn't give me the time
of day. What the hell makes you think that I'm going to play your fuckin'
games. This is ridiculous. I'm getting cabin fever in here."
"Hold on a few more minutes. The wait can't hurt you. And neither will I."
"Hurt this," Trey said, grabbing his crotch. He had grown tired of the games he
was playing with her. He had grown tired of the back-talk, the holier-than-thou
attitude, and the denial of the fact that something was seriously, seriously
wrong with their present situation. Shane needed to come back. He wanted to
back on the 'Dancer. He wanted to be anywhere other than where he was.
Then... the sound of a foot stepping in a puddle. Trey stopped dead in his
tracks, all his senses perking up. His ears reached and heard the drip of water
as the foot left the same puddle. He put a finger up to his mouth, silencing
Taella and motioned her over to him. Someone's coming, he mouthed to her,
moving back away from the direction of the sound.
She nodded, scurrying to his side like a frightened animal, quiet as a mouse as
she waited. She looked fearful as she stayed at his side, motionless.
There was a shuffle of footsteps and a pounding on the door above their
location. The stairs leading up to the door trembled slightly with the
vibration caused by the knocking. Trey held his breath. "When they come in, you
dive through that grate, I'll keep them busy. Get to the 'Dancer. Tell whoever
is there that Trey sent you. They'll understand. Got it?"
She nodded. "I'll tell them." She started off before pausing behind him,
waiting for him to focus on his targets, to forget about her.
The door burst open and men came flying down the stairs, phaser rifles in hand,
shouting so much that their words blended together into a cacophony of complete
gibberish. It was almost overwhelming, but Trey maintained his composure.
Powering up the phaser he took a deep breath and stepped forward, leveling his
aim at the first man in line.
Something made him stumble, something painful. Taella made him fall, a thin
cord draping, wrapping around his throat. She smiled a dark, revealing smile,
tightening the cord. "I knew you liked it rough," she whispered in his ear,
almost intimately.
The phaser dropped from his hand, the sound of it hitting the floor seamlessly
fitting in with the rest of the noise happening. Trey's hands flew to the cord
around his throat, trying to pull for some relief, but found none. The world
started to spin, his face began to tingle, and he grew weaker. Finally, the
blackness overwhelmed him and he past out.
******
The light was bright in his eyes. He gasped for breath. There was a pain around
his throat, a burn, but his hands were bound behind him. Slowly he opened his
eyes. The same men who had burst into the room earlier had now taken up a
perfect stance around him. Looking around through the blinding light, Trey laid
eyes on Shane, who was awake, aware, and completely unmoving kneeling next to
him. "Shane..."
"Don't talk, Trey."
"What is - "
"Don't talk, Trey." Shane repeated, his eyes snapping to Trey's, the
seriousness of the glare stopping Trey's voice instantly. "They want the
'Dancer. They want the people, the ship, the supplies. Do not - " Shane's
diatribe was silenced by the sound of a rifle's barrel connecting with Shane's
jaw.
Trey jerked, "Shane!"
Taella emerged from between two of them, an arm on either shoulder as she
passed between the guards. "Your devotion to one another is touching. I almost
feel bad being the one to end it, after all the time you two must have spent
together."
"What do you want?" Trey blurted out, his eyes narrowing. If looks could kill
she would've been burnt alive, hung, tarred and feathered, and left for the
birds to pick the meat off her bones.
Shane looked at Trey through a bloodied eye. "Trey... shut up."
"Love, happiness, a place to call my own, good sex, and tequila. I'd also like
to rule the sector, but I won't push my luck. I bet your wishes right now are a
little simpler."
"What do you want? I'll give it to you. You want the 'Dancer, I'll tell you how
to get on it, just let us go." Trey had become frantic and lost his way. His
ability to maintain his composure went out the window. He had officially
shifted into preservation mode. His life was worth more than anything else he
had. "Authorization codes? I got them."
"Trey!" Shane screamed, drawing his companion's gaze, "Please. You aren't
helping."
"Yes, I do want the Shadowdancer." She looked at Shane. "And this one for a
little fun on the side."
Shane laughed, "You'll never get either. Trey doesn't have the authorization
codes, he doesn't have the authority to get you back onto 'Dancer. Why do you
think that he tags along with me? They would never trust him with anything
important that could conceivably be coerced out of him." He spit on Taella's
shoe, "You'll never get anything from me. And he's no help."
She lifted her rifle and smiled, aiming it at him without giving him so much as
a glance to assure her targeting. The trigger was pulled.
"I guess I don't need him, then."
The phaser blast tore through Trey's clothing, searing away flesh. Trey's mouth
dropped, the pain registering its full effects on his face, before his eyes
rolled back into his head and he tumbled over face-first onto the floor. The
smoke that came from the burnt clothing on his body rose silently.
"No!" Shane yelled, watching his comrade fall. It was only a couple of seconds
before Shane realized that he was dead. The kid was eighteen. He was trapped
seven years in the past where no one knew he was. The only family that he had -
Shane - had turned his back on him. And, for all intents and purposes, had
caused his death. Shane felt emotion welling up inside of him. "He was j-just a
kid."
"He was old enough to hold a weapon -- he was old enough to be taken down by
one. Now -- you want me to torture you to death, or will you be a good boy and
tell me what I want to hear?"
"What makes you think that killing my friend is going to get me to do anything
for you?"
Taella made a slow circle around him. "I can start with your extremities, then
work on the non-vital spots of the body, going through all the groups of pain
one spot at a time. Do you need a demonstration, or will you start talking?"
Shane smirked, "The body can only go through so much pain before a black out.
If that happens, or if you kill me, you'll not have any information. Meaning
you'll be in the exact same position you are in now."
"If I kill you, you'll still be dead. You want to risk that?"
"I've had a good run."
"Give me the codes." The Orion crossed her arms, leveling a cold stare at him,
"Or I'll see just how long it takes for you to black out. And I'll do it again,
and again, and again."
"Go to hell."
She stepped away, disgusted. "Guards, kill him. Slowly. I want to see him
bleed."
That was his opening. He had been slicing the rope with the back of his shoe,
with a cleverly created razor blade fitted into the heel of his boot. The first
guard of four moved forward just in time for Shane to crush his windpipe with a
properly placed punch. The phaser dropped into Shane's open hand and he dropped
another two guards. Grabbing Taella he pushed her in front of him, using her as
a shield. "Think you've got everything covered, do you?"
"Let go of me!" She jerked her elbows back, trying to force him away. "You'll
pay for that."
"The tables have turned. Tell him to stand down."
With surprising strength, she threw her head back, smashing against his for a
minute, dazing him. A dagger appearing from her hip, she pushed the blade into
the stomach of the startled mercenary. "And they turn again. Goodbye, Shane. It
was fun."
Shane clutched the knife still embedded in his gut. The warmth of his blood
covered his hands and he looked at Taella and the fourth security officer
heading up the stairs. The bodies of the others not moving and not being cared
for enough for retrieval. Shane crawled over to his fallen comrade, the life
slowly draining out of him. He tasted his own blood in his mouth. "Trey..." He
muttered out, blood topping his lip. "I'm sorry."
And in that dreary and desolate corridor, Shane Taggart and Trey Onadan, who
had always longed for the truth of their existence and for a real place to call
their own, finally made that final journey home.
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