14. Space
Victoria Zeta
The radio called out a third time, only dead air in response back.
Stationed outside of the asteroid field, the Victoria Zeta drifted. She was on a skeleton crew for this run - the task retrieving lost cargo instead of their usual mining operations.
As the oldest of the four, Wire & Heat remained behind as their captain and his vice had gone to man the grappler. Wire was more than comfortable piloting V.Zeta when needed, even if he and Heat where technically maintenance crew. Captain was also navigator in times of trouble, able to recalculate paths as fast if not faster than the computer - a skill leading itself beautifully to the shifting fields of debris and stone. Killer was their first mate and lead pilot, but he excelled in the smaller craft the way few physically could, both with the fast chaotic spins she was known for and the small spaces he found more home than claustrophobic.
Right now, Kidd & Killer were out on their own in the smallest of their Victoria collective - the Victoria Punk - a small grappler pod more storage then crew space. There was a second more battle ready grappler - the Victoria Gibson - for outright dog fights. Both were designed for a crew of two, but Kidd was capable of soloing the Gibson as a tank if Killer stayed with the Punk to fly quick maneuvers - running distractions rather than outright fighting. The Punk was small but fast - and Kidd had taken advantage of Killer's smaller form to refit the ship to give himself more maneuverability in the arms.
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Victoria Punk
Lost among the screaming alarms was the tiny voice of the comm as Killer took to desperate measures to escape his tail. He'd been behind Kidd in the swivel trying to adjust a loose connection when the attack had thrust them off the face of the asteroid they'd been docked at - free spiraling into space; and he'd only not been thrown against the control panel by Kidd's quick response and holding in him place as they where knocked loose.
He'd slid into the cocoon of the pilot controls of the Punk and was trying to fly and battle alarms simultaneously when Kidd pulled himself from the gun seat and held of the shoulder of Killer's station.
"Just fly" he'd ordered - before all the sound fell away when Kidd's headset settled over Killer's ears. Kidd had disconnected the input, leaving Killer to the silence of space and dealt with the plethora of system warnings himself.
Killer knew the Punk by vibrations alone and instinctively continued and adjusted as his displays went in and out. Kidd- the only one who might know the Punk better than Killer - began triage on his ship.
"WiHe to - "
"Zeta - this is Punk. Head's up. We're being ambushed!"
Wire's voice paused. "You need Heat in Gibson?"
"Negative - just stay alert and be ready to grab us when we get to you. We don't have time for a dock at this point."
"Copy Captain"
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Kidd eyed the next set of alarms worried. Killer was doing well in avoiding further damage but the Punk was starting to strain under his hair pin flying.
Killer was also without his helmet - the blue striped plating clattering around the guts of Punk's arms right now.
Executive decision made - Kidd detached his left arm from the Punk's system and tucked himself in behind Killer's station.
"Kidd?" Killer spared him a glace before unclipping the shoulder of his harness. He handed the right shoulder back blindly, trusting Kidd would take it.
"Wrap it behind you and I'll clip you in at the hip." It was an awkward moment of contorting, Kidd twisting himself full circle in the tiny cavity and handing the clip back on Killer's left. There was no room left for Kidd to try and twist to get the left shoulder in as Killer replaced the strap with the one now behind Kidd - the left strap retracting uselessly into the seat.
Kidd patted his partner's shoulder reassuringly, before hitting the seal between the pilot and gunner pods. Maybe before the modifications, this could have been comfortable, but those days where long past them. Kidd was fine just as long as he didn't inhale too deep. He was still too tall for the area, knees bent to each side awkwardly, but when the inevitable leak happened, they would be on the same side of the door no matter the outcome.
And then it came - an explosive shudder as the hull of the Punk was breached and they were set spinning one again. Kidd wrapped an arm over Killer's torso to hold him when the tumbling sent them ass over heels and Killer left only restrained by the hip belts.
Kidd felt his vision hazing as Killer focused on missing the rocks over steadying the spin and he braved one moment to pat Kidd's arm reassuringly before every light in the cocoon turned red and every siren cut off all in one go.
There was an explosion behind them - something big - and then Kidd came back to himself as they drifted in silence. Killer was panting like he's run a marathon, blond hair slipping from under his suit hood to plaster itself to his sweaty face. His focus was still solely on his flying, but it seemed to Kidd he'd not only shaken their tail but dealt with it permanently.
"KiKi to WiHe - do you copy?" Kidd asked as the alarm lights flickered out as he let go of Killer to begin dismissing them one by one.
"WiHe to KiKi - we copy."
Kidd squeezed Killer's shoulder as he relaxed, a half hearted massage just as much to calm him as to reassure Killer. "We're not going to be able to dock but we're on our way for a pick up."
"Grap and Go, or cargo bay?"
"Grab and go for now. We might have more friends lurking."
Killer would get them to Victoria Zeta - Kidd had no doubts. If they had a grabbler after that was anyone's guess.
"I'm sorry - " he's started, only for Kidd to press a kiss to his temple as they sat waiting. Heat had used Victoria Gibson to grab the pilot capsule of Punk, and the two remained clutched in Grison's grip as the other grappler remained docked. And they would remain there until the commanders had piloted Victoria Zeta back into the safety of deep space.
"I'll get you a new helmet, don't worry about it."
Killer scowled, "That wasn't what I meant."
Kidd dug his chin into Killer's left shoulder, eliciting a different angry noise, "I said what I said. We still have the Gibson. We'll figure things out. We always do."
The real question was why had they been baited to the run? Were they always the target or just the first unlucky saps to get there first?
Hell - were they even first? How many others had come out here only to meet their ends?
Kidd hated open questions.