Inter-Dimensional Music

<Snip>

“I hope that Mechanoid does help us, honestly I have no other idea on how we can escape from this nightmare of a place”.

</Snip>

"It's not that bad, really," Ransom said.

"I thought this entire dimension was terrible?" South was starting to become more irritated than he already was, which was an impressive feat.

"I've got a book, it's quiet, and there's some people to start a song with if I feel like it."

"I'm sorry, are we on the same ship?"

"How much do you beat that I can get a song going?"

"Ransom, I'm not betting any-"

"If I don't I'll buy the first round at the next bar we find?"

"Deal."

South smiled as he watched Ransom clap his hands together and approach the barred walls that divided the cells.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Ransom called loudly to the assembled prisoners, rapping along the bars to attract their attention, "Are any of you familiar with a band called The Beatles?"

--

"And how have the Micky Mouse Mafia in the West responded?"

"Not at all, Boss, but the Partnership in Detroit are making moves."

Captain Capone leaned back in his red leather chair, cigar smoke swirling around his head and clouding the room so that the light struggled to penetrate, leaving the room dim and dark.

It was the captain's cabin, Capone's personal room and fitted with trophies of hos past victories and filled with personal documents of his enterprises across the American Colonies.

"We've still got the author down in the brig, and the scientist, with the rest of the hostages," Sonny, Capone's first mate, reminded his boss.

"Yes, I want to see Mr. MacIntyre before the big meet, see if the wiseguy knows of anything useful."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Make him walk the plank, he'll be sleeping with the fishes before dawn."

--

"One last time! Naaaanana Nananana! Nanananaaaa! Hey, Jude!"

The final line was met with roaring applause, claps and cheers from the listening crowd and bows from the impromptu choir that Ransom had cobbled together, spread out across the cells and creating an impressive surround sound experience.

The mood was much lighter now, and everyone was happily talking amongst themselves as the choir disbanded and went back to their families.

"I can't believe you did that," South said, still slightly speechless.

"You're lucky that I only drink ginger beer, Dr. South."

"What was that noise?" cries the short pirate who marched from the far end of the corridor with an expression mixed of annoyance and fear. He was clearly the jailor of the cells, and if he couldn't keep the prisoners in check then the punishment passed down from the higher ups would surely find him.

"Hey, Jude," Ransom explained, "By The Beatles."

"I'm surprised they have The Beatles in your dimension, Ransom."

"The Beatles are in every dimension, Dr. South. Much like David Bowie."

"Quiet!" the short pirate squeaked, "Just keep it down, you hear?"

"Here comes the sun," South muttered, a smirk across his face.

"Doo doo doo doo," the assembled prisoners responded.

"Listen, wiseguy, the Don wants to see you two so just keep it zipped, capiche?"

"Capiched," replied Ransom, zipling his mouth closed.

The short jailor approached Ransom and South's cell, pulling a key from his pocket.

"Now, Dustie!" South suddenly shouted, jumping from his sit.

"Eh?" The pirate managed before he found the head of a mop colliding with his face, knocking him out.

"Sorry, sir," Dustie apologised, as he instinctively checked the pirate for any serious damage.

Cheers and whoops went up through the enthusiastic prisoners, certain that they would be saved now.

"So," South whispered in Ransom's ear as Dustie unlocked their cell, "When are we going to tell him that the Dwarf consists of dust and chunks of metal floating in deep space?"

"I figured we'd leave it to Cass," Ransom whispered back.

South nodded with a smile, "Good plan."

"Erm, sirs?" politely called Dustie from the cell's open door way, "Might I suggest we move on before more of the crew arrives?"

"Oh, enough of that 'sir' nonsense, Dustie," Ransom said, patting the mechanoid on the shoulder as he passed it, "You can call us doctors."

"We, I'm certainly not going to do it," South laughed.

"You only get it because I don't know your first name."

"If I might interrupt, doctors, what is our next course of action?" Dustie asked, emphasising 'doctors' in such a way that your attention was immediately brought to it but not in way that made you think he was being rude. Dustie was good at this sort of thing.

"Right," Ransom began, settling his mind into a serious set, "I doubt we can tale over the ship by ourselves..."

"So we hold the lower decks until the others turn up?" South finished.

"Sounds like a good plan, if a bit boring."

"Want to go exploring the ship, then?"

"Don't you? Where is my lead baritone?" Ransom said, addressing the freed prisoners. An elderly man with a grey twirling moustache and deep blue military jacket raised his hand proudly.

"Ah, yes, Brigadier General Pontefract, you will stay here and defend this area. The brig looks defendable enough. Should be some weapon lying around."

"Yes, doctors," Brigadier General Pontefract said with a salute.

"And we will go exploring this ship. Coming Dustie?" South said to the mechanoid.

Dustie looked hesitant at first but then there was a soft meow from over his shoulder, and a small cat appeared.

"Yes, Dustie, the cat can come too."

"Oh, thank you, doctor!"