Perfect escape. Almost.

This area of the ship was deserted, as Calvo had predicted, and they were not challenged as they hurried down the empty halls. Still, the minutes seemed to be ticking by a little faster than he'd expected, and he let out an audible sigh of relief when they arrived safely at the landing bay.

The two-man fighter sat undisturbed, dwarfed by the larger shuttles. Calvo stole a brief, regretful look at these, wishing he had the first clue how to fly them.

He commented on this as he went to work bypassing the lock on the smaller ship. "Darn things are so needlesly complicated, so...so MODERN. Nothing like a nice trusty fighter." Flinging open the hatch, he added, "Hop on in, ladies. Your chariot awaits!"

The women exchanged dubious looks as they examined the tiny, spartan interior, obviously designed more for function than comfort, but both knew better than to waste time complaining.

Eighteen went in first, ducking her head to get through the opening and gently settling Twelve down on the gunner's chair. The lieutenant followed, standing against the wall of the now crowded cockpit, and there were a few uncomfortable grunts as last but not least, Calvo elbowed his way in and maneuvered himself into the pilot's seat.

With the flip of a switch, the hatch was closed, and after a couple of other hastily keyed commands, the airlock of the giant merc ship began to slide upward. Calvo didn't wait for it to finish, but yanked down on the launch lever. "Hang on tight now," he muttered as the little fighter shot forward.

He heard a gasp behind him when it didn't look like they were quite going to clear the half-open door, but he'd timed it perfectly, and in another instant they were in the blackness of space and speeding away as fast as their twin engines could carry them.

"Made it!" he shouted exultantly. "And with plenty of time to spa--."

His boast was cut short by a flash of blinding light ripping across the spot the merc ship had occupied only a split second before.

"Well, we made it anyway," he said with a sheepish smile.

"Thanks to you," Eighteen said, with real gratitude in her voice. Calvo blinked, then nodded and quickly shifted his attention to the controls to cover his surprise. All it took was a little life-threatening peril, and these guardswomen became almost human!

There was a long pause after that, as everyone seemed content to quietly reflect on the events that had wreaked such a drastic change in their lives in such a short time, the two women perhaps thinking of the lost comrades now beyond their reach, perhaps forever.

Then the lieutentant broke the silence in her usual abrupt manner. "Set a course for Tau Ceti Prime. Command will want to debrief me on what happened to the prison, and afterwards we'll have to be reassigned. There might be a fleet of our warships in the area, as well, so keep an eye out and be ready to hail them."

"Way to ruin a moment..." Calvo inwardly seethed. He wondered where HE'D be 'reassigned'. He could picture it now. "Thanks for saving our girls from being sold into slavery on some hellhole planet. Now here's a pat on the back and some new fatigues. They should keep you feeling nice and warm and fuzzy while you serve out the rest of your sentence in another one of our hellhole PRISONS."

The fact was, at some point--he suspected right about the time Sparks slammed him face first into a wall--a key detail in his escape plan had gone awry. HE was supposed to be holding the gun, not Eighteen.

He'd hoped to make a beeline for the edge of Tau Ceti's jurisdiction, drop the women off on a neutral planet somewhere, and go on his merry way. But now that he'd lost control of the situation things became a little more complicated...