Nico (vilakins) wrote,

Ficlet: Space Cavalry

As part of getting back into regular writing again, here's one of three stories written last week for the b7friday challenge women save that day, a topic that inspired a lot of writers. I decided to do all the Liberator and Scorpio women. This one's Jenna and Cally: 600 words, set in season 1 or early 2.

Space Cavalry

"Down and safe. Blake out."

"Right." Cally hit the trans-off button and leaned back. "But not for long, I suspect," she said to Jenna beside her. "You know," she said reflectively, "I can understand why you have to stay here, being the pilot--"

"In stationary orbit?" Jenna mimed a yawn.

"--and why Blake wanted Gan along to impress the locals, but why does Avon persist in taking Vila when I am the trained fighter and experienced rebel? Especially when they are making contact with a rebel group."

"Which I've done before when running arms." Jenna shrugged. "Still, would you rather Vila was left up here in reserve? Or Gan for that matter?"

"That is a good point. Gan is not the fastest thinker."

"Or Vila exactly prone to daring rescues."

"All the same." Cally put her chin in her hand. "Perhaps it is because Avon and Vila get on so well."

Jenna snorted. "Those two?"

"They spend a lot of time together and they seem to have a similar sense of humour. I do not see how that is relevant when on a mission though."

"I think it's because Avon always has an eye out for a spot of larceny, and Vila is the best in that field." Jenna almost laughed at the disapproving look on Cally's face. "Oh come on, Cally. Not everyone grew up in a culture with no personal possessions, you know."

"We had possessions."

"Yes, just things like clothes that were the right size, or guns that fitted your grip."

"Precisely. So why would I wish to have something not made for me?"

Jenna gave up. She gave Cally a speculative look and raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

"RIP," said Cally after a few seconds of thought. "Fifty."

"D." Jenna tapped her fingers thoughtfully. "And NB." She grinned wolfishly. "Two hundred."

"Those are long odds."

"I like long odds."

"This is Blake." The voice sounded strained. "Teleport now!"

"Right." Cally got out her handgun and rested it on the desk, hit teleport, and put her thumb ready on a sliding scale. "Hello," she said as two heavily armed troopers began to materialise. She slid the control under her thumb to the far right and pushed the teleport lever forward. "And goodbye." She watched as two small green dots on the display dissolved into tiny points of light. She had been puzzled the first time--bodies do not explode in vacuum--but setting the destination range beyond the maximum caused dispersal.

D for dispersal. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion at Jenna. "Anyone else?" she said into the comms.

"Cally! They've got us prisoner!" yelled Vila. "Ow! That was completely uncalled for," he said resentfully to an unseen assailant. "There's no need for OW!"

Cally sighed. "NB" she said, resigned. She and Jenna ran to the flight deck.

"Attention Federation. We just laid four neutron blasts right around your base," Cally said calmly. "The next one will be right on target. Unless of course you surrender your weapons to my fellow crew members and return their bracelets."

"Well done, Cally," came Blake's voice after a short pause.

"They'll need two teleport bracelets." Cally stood up. "I'll take them down." She paused and looked at Jenna accusingly. "You knew."

"I'd heard rumours that group had been infiltrated." Jenna looked at her fingernails. "And I had the coordinates of the local Federation base set up before we got here."

"You didn't say anything."

"They didn't ask."

"I still get RIP." Rescue in person.

"I grant you that. But I still get 150 credits for D and NB."

"Only until next time," said Cally.

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