(no subject)

Who: Jo, a trio of unfortunate pirates
Where: some darkened hangar bay
When: I don’t know, I’m unconscious
“Fecking hell, this place has more corridors than … than Buckin’ham
palace,” said one pirate as they wandered aimlessly down a corridor.
“Ed, y’ever been to Buckin’ham palace?” asked another.
“No,” Ed replied, “But it seems like a place that’d ‘ave lotsa
corridors. For hidin’ treasure an’ wealth an’ stuff,”
“I saw the Queen once y’know. At Buckingham Palace. A real fine
lookin’ lady,” said a third.
“Yeh, whatever Grod. Hey Larry! Pick a number between 1 and 3,” said
Ed.
“Um… 5.”
“Idgit!” chortled Grod, “Everone knows 9 ‘s between 1 and 3.”
Ed snorted and started counting off doors. “1 … 2 … 3 … 4 … 5. We have
a winner.” The doors slid open. Larry searched the wall for a
lightswitch, then flicked it. With a loud humming, rows of lights
flickered on, revealing a fairly empty hangar, excepting a pile of
unsalvageable junk in one far corner.
“Damn, there ain’t nothin’ worth piratin’ on this hunk o’ junk ship!”
Ed yelled as he marched into the shuttle bay.
“Oi Ed, look over there.” Grod pointed towards where the Phoenix lay
half crushed by the wall that had partially collapsed on it. A number
of wibbles were clustered around it, bounding up and down, chirruping
and generally acting wibble-ey.
“Cor would y’look at that. Musta been a real nice ship at some stage,”
said Larry, striding over to it, “Hey! There’s someone here.”
Jo lay with her cheek pressed to the floor one arm beneath her. Dark
strands of hair had escaped from her long braid and were plastered to
her blood slicked face. The three of them congregated around her
unconscious form. Grod prodded her with his foot.
“I think she’s still alive,” he said.
“She’s pretty beat up,” commented Larry, “Whaddya want to do?”
Ed shrugged, “Kill her, we ain’t friends wiv ‘em. An’ we’s got more
lootin’ to do.” He turned and walked back towards the corridor,
kicking a wibble or two as he went. After a moment Larry turned and
followed him.
“Whys I always gotta do the dirty work,” grunted Grod. He turned Jo
onto her back with his boot and aimed his power rifle at her forhead.
At this point, Jo came round. Her eyes flickered open to find herself
staring down the barrel of a high powered automatic weapon at a rather
surprised pirate. While stood there in shock as his slow brain tried
to recover and sent the necessary commands to his finger to pull the
trigger, Jo reached up, grabbed the barrel and yanked it out of his
hands. As Grod stumbled forward, she swung the rifle as hard as she
could. It connected his chin with a solid crack, and he was down for
the count.
“Oi Grod! What’s takin’ your fat ass so damn long?” shouted Larry
marching back in. His eyes widened at the sight of Jo, now crouched
there with the weapon clamped between her injured right arm and her
side, finger on the trigger, steadied by her left hand.
“ED!!” he yelled. Jo’s sudden moves had made her dizzy, she blinked
trying to regain focus on the pirates as Ed came rushing back into the
hangar. Her vision cleared, Larry and Ed had brought their weapons up
to aim. She fired.
Her first shot caught Larry in the neck. He collapsed, convulsing and
spraying blood. She dropped forward onto the floor as Ed sprayed fire
through the air where she had just been. Her second shot caught him in
the knee and he sank to the ground with a yell.
Still sitting Ed had brought up his gun again to fire, when her third
shot hit him in the chest. He dropped backwards and lay still.
Jo lay there panting, until the pain in her head subsided. Slowly
climbing to her feet, she stood swaying a little waiting for the
dizziness to pass. Grod started groaning where he lay at her feet. Jo
delivered another swing of the rifle butt to his temple, and he fell
silent. Stripping him of the ammunition she could carry. She slowly
made her way to the door. Her arm felt like it was pieced with a
hundred knives with every gasping step she took.
At the end of the corridor, the doors to a turbo lift slid open. She
sank into the seat inside gratefully.
“Welcome to Melchett Express Lifts. We are glad to serve you in your
transport needs, whether it be…”
“Medibay,” Jo ground out through clenched teeth. The lift continued
its happy little welcome spiel. She lifted the rifle.
“Take me to the medibay or I’ll shoot your voice circuits,” she
growled.
“Well look who woke up on the wrong side of bed today,” the lift
grumbled, offended, but the doors closed and it lurched into action,
“Going up.”
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