"I YES! That's it!!" Andy suddenly shouted. Hilly smiled
benevolently. "Don't worry then. Just follow the green flashing lights
on the ceiling and I'll head you off to a holo-booth for Psycho-analysis."
With that, the cleaner turned towards the flashing lights and stalked
down the corridor. Jed better damn well pay him in spades for this.
Rosette listened intently. Nothing. Everything had gone silent. She
relaxed her muscles, and tried to use the back of the shell she was in
to relax. As soon as she put pressure on it, she felt a sudden
movement, as the whole back fell off in one go, letting her fall out
with it. She took several huge breaths, like she'd just come up for
air after being dragged underwater with the Titanic. She lay there
for a second before getting her bearings. She knew they were planning
on going over to the Pink Dwarf, and by the looks of it, she was there
"What the..." she asked herself, looking over the room. This medi-bay
was laid out exactly as the one on the Blue Dwarf, although there was
no big pink tree. "How Ironic..." she muttered, before looking over
the shell she had been in. The back piece that had allowed her exit
was all in one piece, a single line, almost like the line that
followed the circumference of an easter egg lined it. She lifted it
carefully, and rested it against the front of the shell.
"Perfect!" she said happily. It was as if she'd never moved. The
shell looked exactly as it had when she was inside it. Her shirt was
torn where she had been shot, as well as her jeans. She needed new
attire. Looking up, the brightly coloured vent entrance shone down to
her, like an angel guiding her way. The vents were her main form of
travel, and in this situation, would most likely prove their worth
once again. She nimbly climbed up, and slid into the cold metal tube,
closing the grill behind her.
"Come on..." she said, crawling along it slowly. "Why do these things
have to be so damn cold!" She crawled further down the vent, until
another grill came into view. She made her way over to it, and looked
down. A single corridor, every wall brightly coloured, well lit, and
clean. A young woman wandered underneath, alone. "Perfect!" she
said, waiting for her to pass before knocking the vent open, and
leaping down. The young woman turned to face her, and almost
screamed. She would have, if it wasn't for a lump of torn short that
had been shoved into her mouth. Rosettes fist then flew into her
face, sending her down to the ground, where she fell unconcious.
She dragged the body quickly to a cleaners cupboard, obviously
labelled by the hundreds of flowers over the door, and in bright,
happy lettering "Cleaners" written over it. Inside it was still
bright, unlike any small cupboard anywhere else in the universe. The
young woman was tied up, gagged properly, and left wtih nothing but
underwear as Rosette donned her uniform, and examined the ID she had
"Not too bad..." she said, comparing the picture to herself. She
looked over to the name, and the smile of success faded quickly.
"Maureen?!?!?" she cried. "I don't want to be called Maureen!" she
shuddered, and pocketed the ID, making her way back into the corridor.
"Right... Now where..." she said, looking for a terminal that would
give her a proper layout of the ship. She was after one specific
target, and wouldn't let anyone get in her way. The standard JMC
issue laser pistol hung to the side of her new uniform. She fiddled
with it as she walked, tossing over the idea in her head about
shooting people that got in her way. She didn't want to get into any
more trouble than she already was, if it could be helped. She
approached a console, and tapped up the commands to get a map of the
ship. "tractor beam.... tractor beam.." she said to herself slowly,
as she scanned the map for those two words. "Ahha!" she almost
shouted as she spotted it. The other side of the ship. It was a long
walk from here, and would probably give everyone from the Blue Dwarf
time to get back aboard before anything bad happened. "Must fit in...
Must fit in.." she said, watching everyone that passed.
"SMEG!" she cried in her head. Every woman that was onboard this ship
walked like Dale Winton. She had given those mannerisms up long ago,
when she had to survive on the streets. Now was time to dig up the
memories of those lessons as a child, and become very upper class once
again. If Seymour was here, he'd have been proud of her complete and
utter snobbery. Nonetheless, she had a mission, an important one to
save her home.
<tag! let's go for the tennis again!>