The devil in the details.

Stage 5

The devil in the details.

At some point during the flight, she must have fallen asleep. She was awakened by a shift in the ship's superstructure, the familiar creak and groan caused by the stress of sudden deceleration. They had just exited a waveform slipstream. She felt the lurch as the RCS thrusters kicked in.

Her grip instinctively tightened on the side beam she was sitting next to. She was in a small irregularly shaped compartment, a natural hollow place in the ship's internal structure, which just happened to be one of the best places to stash contraband, both breathing and inert.

A few hours earlier the ship's skipper had whisked her away into the cargo area, and with a few deft movements of his magnetic pliers, he gently pried away a large irregularly shaped panel from the side of the ship's metal wall. It was a clever design. The ship itself had been refurbished and repaired so many times that there was a mismatch of alloys throughout the whole length of the inner wall in various stages of rust or corrosion, which gave the interior the look of a patchwork quilt. The panel keeping her hidden held no telltale seams.

"Remember, stay quiet and don't make any noise," the smuggler had told her when she had stuffed herself into the small space. "They do random check points, but usually it's right before we get into a system. No matter what you hear or think you hear, don't make a sound."

Miranda had nodded as he lifted up the panel and closed her in.

She closed her eyes again as the ship started to enter a planetary gravity well. She groaned as the ship started to experience violent turbulence. Just her luck that the ship did not have the proper inertial calibrations. Miranda braced herself and took a steadying breath. The ship lurched once more and her thoughts turned just as suddenly to the recent revelation about her training.

For several years after the Paradoxical Training Corps, she had always wondered why she had failed. Even though the trauma of losing Richard was still affecting her emotionally, not to mention the fact he had kept secrets from her.

She vowed to never doubt her abilities again.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a stuttering effect reminiscent of the cavitation experienced by submarines. At first she thought it was just more evidence that the inertial dampers had been incorrectly calibrated, but by the sound and force of the cavitation she knew that the ship was decelerating quickly. The first word that came to mind was "inspection." She closed her eyes and concentrated on the situation around her. If this was just a standard inspection, the ship wouldn't completely stop as they were only looking for proper shipping credentials.

As if on cue, the ship shuttered once more and she heard the RCS thrusters cycle down. They had indeed come to a complete stop.

A scene flashed before her eyes. She could see the captain of the ship chattering. He looks nervous and far too eager to stop the ship. Then her vision shifts as she spots the other ship in question, not a Colonial system police unit but military, unmarked.

He's going to sell me out.

As she opened her eyes she knew she only had ten minutes to get out of her hole. She looked up and around the seam of the removable wall. The magnets were strong enough to hold the false wall up but it was further strengthened by a rotating lock.

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a compact tool set. She lifted herself up as far as she could and leaned against the metal plate, shining a small flashlight at it. She could see the magnetic latch. Carefully she maneuvered one of her tools to the locking mechanism and hooked it. After a few moments of working the tool like a toothpick, she was able to release the lock. She retrieved her tool and put it back into place and slipped the toolkit back into her jacket. Then she slowly pushed on the one of the corners of the metal plate.

She swallowed. It isn't budging.

She pushed a little harder on the edge and after a few grueling seconds, finally heard a resounding metallic pop as the edge released.

She snaked her fingers through the slight opening, clenched her teeth as the metal bit into her skin, and then worked the seams until she popped the metal panel out. She caught the heavy panel just before it crashed down to the floor.

In a matter of seconds she was out of her confinement. Working quickly and quietly, she replaced the panel. She only had three minutes left before her pursuers hemmed her into the cargo hold.

She had a plan and it involved that functional escape pod.

~*~

The skipper was sweating profusely.

He slowed to a complete stop about 50,000 kilometers from the planet.

The skipper had, for his survival, often taken on the dubious task of working with the local authorities. Most times it was nothing serious, perhaps a misplaced shipment or a few bribes here and there. Other times he would reveal the smuggled person's location because their bounty was greater than the safe passage bonus.

It was actually a rather beautiful arrangement. If by chance he happened upon a fugitive with a significant bounty, he'd contact one of the many highly trained ears within the appropriate law enforcement department and, after they paid his premium, he would simply give them up.

What had marked him with excessive perspiration on this occasion was that the heavily-armed Void lion had taken an offensive posture from the onset. If he even thought about twitching in the wrong direction, they wouldn't hesitate to incinerate his ship. That kept his shaking left hand from touching the rather sensitive fly by wire controls.

Managing to take a more calming breath, taming this dwindling composure. Keeping his eyes on the large view screen in front of him. That militarized behemoth was massive, filling the whole of his rather sizable view screen.

A smaller ship had exited the belly of that beast and was heading in his direction. They would have to soft seal on the aft side docking door since he didn't have a bay large enough to accommodate the vessel.

His thoughts raced as the transport ship slowly made its way closer and closer to his own.

He had always played the game by riding the fence. He would get calls from those in the law enforcement ranks asking for leads. Sometimes those 'leads' were in his own cargo bay, other times he would merely point them in the right direction. But there were plenty of times when he did neither.

This time, though, he had no choice.

He had no desire to tangle with the Colonial military.

Which brought him to his current conundrum.

The man that had negotiated for his cargo's contract was listed an elite. The part that troubled him with his current action was that the broker had arranged for the "supplemental cargo" to get on system unharmed, which meant a buffer payment guarantee. There were to be no "out of contract negotiations" lest you reap the wrath of the broker.

Betraying cargo was one thing; almost commonplace, but betraying an elite broker with an established buffer payment was a fast path to a messy and painful end.

There was a loud thud as the small transport ship made contact with the exterior wall of his cargo ship. He heard the pressurization of the soft seal, a curious sound that was much like a loud suction pop. Within seconds, the air lock was released and the hatch door opened. He stepped aside, but kept his eye other ship's door.

The skipper was taken by surprise when three rather beautiful young women hopped across from their ship to his own. They couldn't have been older than 25, but each had the look and demeanor of far more seasoned military fare.

The last to jump across was wearing more identifiers on her uniform. He presumed she was the one in charge. And he was right.

"What makes you think your cargo is the person we are looking for?" she asked.

Her air was one that had clearly been preened by the aristocracy.

He took a breath and attempted a smile.

"Weeeell, she be wearing one of 'em facial distorter thingies. I couldn't see quite see her purdy face, but from what y'all mentioned about body types and dress I'd say it's her, awight."

A hint of a frown touched the woman's features. He couldn't tell if it was a judgment on his claim, or disappointment in his colloquial speech.

"Do you have any evidence to prove your assumptions?"

Coughing a bit, he moved over to one of his video displays and keyed up the security logs. He played them a section of his security video with the mystery woman entering the ship. As noted the device could not pick up any features.

"Plus me eyes turned cross-eye'd er'moment I glanced at her fully in da face."

It was sudden, as one of the women in uniform drew out her weapon and turned it on to the skipper, which brought him back to full attention!

He raised his hands quick like,

"Hey now! I'm not armed!!"

A rather cool smile formed across her supple lips, the ice in her veins held her weapon steady as he stared down the barrel.

"Of course, but you're going to walk us down to the cargo hold to show us where she is located, am I right? Can'ts haz none of 'em mishaaps alongs da way, now cans we?" her humor clipped through like a pair of tin shears, as she added, "par'ner."

The skipper turned pale.

~*~

Miranda rushed for the ship's escape pod. As she reached the control panel she realized that she would need a code to gain entry. She cursed silently, then pulled out her tool set and pried the control panel open. She started pulling out wires, guessing at their purpose. There was a slim chance, but considering the alternatives she had no other choice.

~*~

He was shaking rather notably as he moved past the one in charge and then slowly past the one with her weapon drawn. The third woman remained stationed at the airlock. He proceeded to walk down the hall, then pulled opened an airtight hatch that opened into the cargo bay. He swallowed as he was about to point to the opening, but before he could even murmur a sound, the young woman with the weapon drawn made it clear with a wave of her pistol that she wanted him step through first.

He wavered as he stepped through the threshold, then walked hesitantly into the cargo bay area. There was a curious smirk on the faces of those rather smartly dress military women. He knew what he was to them. A meat shield.

The skipper's movements were slow as he made his way over to stern side wall. Slowly, he reached into to pocket as he spoke,

"Listen; I'm not trying anything fresh, I just need my tool to open the latch okay?"

The one with the regal bearing smirked.

"It would seem you've lost your curious vernacular."

He dared not respond. She might shoot him for any perceived sarcasm directed at her commanding officer. As he removed his tool and placed the magnetized end on the metallic shell, the sudden connection of the powerful magnet with an already unlatched side panel knocked the tool from his hand as the whole side panel came crashing down. In that same instant, the cargo emergency lights flipped on and there was a massive explosion as the emergency escape pod erupted into the Void. The explosion was so sudden and powerful that it knocked the skipper on his rear end. The solider holding her weapon was just as equally thrown off guard, but she managed to hold her balance as did her commanding officer. As the skipper glanced over to where the escape pod use to be, he felt his stomach clench. His precious cargo was heading planet side, and he was going to pay the price for her escape.

~*~

As the pod was hurtling itself into the Void, Miranda dropped to the ground from her hiding place in the rafters above. Her eyes made contact with one of her pursuers who was grabbing a cargo net for dear life. Somehow she managed to land on both feet in a crouched position. She propelled herself forward through the threshold of the hatch. With a roll, she jumped to her feet, flipping around to face the open door. She grabbed it and slammed it shut before the sound of a bullet pinged against metal door. She could hear swearing even as she spun the wheel. Looking around, she found a clip board and jammed it into the wheel, securing it - at least for the moment. She was only a few steps down the main corridor when she heard the muffled sounds of something striking the hatch door from the other side.

Miranda was at a dead run. She didn't know how many there were, only that two were currently out of commission. Just as she was reaching the helm her Gift activated, but she was too late to appropriate a response as a foot whipped out from a side corner, tripping her. She ducked enough to land in an uncontrolled roll, slamming back first unto the side plating of the ship's hull.

Her head swimming with pain, she made a desperate attempt to shake off the effects of the blow to her body. She felt a wave of chagrin that the attack had taken her by surprise, then immediately let it go to embrace her Gift in full. The breath of space between her crashing into the wall and the inevitable second attack was as thin as a strand of hair. Miranda dove to the side and a fist hit solidly against the ship's hull where her head had been. She thrust her knee in an upward motion and hit her attacker solidly under the chin. The force of the blow knocked her backwards, giving Miranda time to scramble to her feet and into a defensive position.

The other woman had a rather robotic motion as she spat some blood on the floor and turned her eyes toward Miranda.

There was something wrong with the way this woman was looking at her. It was as if Miranda was looking into the dark black eyes of a Great White Shark. The solid contact against her chin had left Miranda's knee throbbing in pain, but this woman showed no signs of pain either received or inflicted. Her hand should be broken.

Miranda swallowed. She was fighting another Gifted. Was her power the ability to absorb pain? Was her Gift all about damage absorption? The woman broke into a smile as a small giggle escaped her lips.

"Oh, don't be so childish Miranda… training, training, training." She flexed her hands and her broken hand started making a rather unnerving crackling noise. "One can still fight with broken bones."

Miranda's shock must have registered because her opponent started giggling again.

Miranda narrowed her eyes and stood her ground. If this woman was Gifted, she could sense any note of weakness. The other woman tilted her head as her giggle morphed into a smile; her eyes shimmered with a malice that was indeed supernatural.

"I see it… that wall… that protection… do you want to know what my Gift is? My ability is to show you how beautiful your paradoxically Gifted self can be. I find paradoxical talent and unleash their latent powers. I unleash a power you were never meant to have, and use to destroy you from within. Perhaps it is time that I release it?"

Miranda's blood turned to ice. She stepped back as the woman's eyes started to glow with gleeful intent.

Miranda's repressed memories and emotions surfaced in full force and her body convulsed. With some effort and strain she spoke.

"You have no idea what you'll unleash! This paradoxical Gift has already manifested itself!"

Her aggressor's eyes only burned hotter and her smile became even wider. "Yes… feed that fear, Miranda. You'll come with us, my docile little lamb."

Miranda grabbed her stomach. She couldn't move, she could barely breath. She was losing control.

Then, it snapped.

The day she had been dreading came to its full realization.

Miranda looked up at the other woman and saw an aura of pulsating red about her, that same malevolent aura that she was trying to use against Miranda began to fuel the nature of her paradoxical Gift.

All Miranda had to do was will that delicious energy to become part of her own body and without any effort her paradoxical Gift started to suck away at life.

She would see it then, the terror in that vicious woman's eyes as she became keenly aware of her tragic mistake. The woman crumpled to her knees and gripped her left arm as if having a heart attack, attempting to undo what she had just unleashed.

She failed.

Such terrific and tragic energy! Miranda was almost beside herself with happiness at the thought of sucking the woman dry and in the din of her euphoria, Miranda heard that all too familiar sensation in her mind - the guiding awareness that had always been her companion.

A calm, yet firm directive rang within the chambers of her mind.

Stop… Stop it now.

Complying, Miranda turned all her energy into walling and controlling her paradoxical Gift. She held her paradoxical Gift at bay struggling with herself; she fought against the need to continue absorbing her victim's energy and came just short of draining that dark aura.

Fighting within her were the Gifted side of her core ability and the paradoxical side; a dangerous balancing act. Her detachment was one of cool indifference. The only source of guidance was this curiously familiar feeling that urged her to stop. After a few more minutes, she felt like someone breaking through the surface of the water just before running out of breath. Miranda gasped back to her sense of self.

She looked down and found the limp body of the woman she had almost killed. Miranda's breathing was deep and elevated as she witnessed the violence before her. Her pupils dilated and she forced herself to stand up.

She had to keep moving.

The sensation within her mind had changed radically; now actively encouraging her to move. Had it been any other day she wouldn't have been as composed about a second entity in her mind telling her what she needed to do, but considering it had helped her, she was willing to make an exception.

Dragging herself forward, she limped over to the skipper's helm and cued up the engineering relay. It didn't take her long before she was able to disable the ship's propulsion and communication systems.

That should give her a few hours.

Moving as quick as her damaged body and leg would allow, she leaped into the small ship and closed the airlock door. She sat in the cockpit, fired up the thrusters, ripped away from the soft seal and burned hard into the Void.