Back to School

The pain of the shot was drowned in the pain of the vortex and all he could hear as the red blackness claimed him was his own scream and sound of the other scream in his head. No, no, NOOO.

But it seemed it wasn't the end and sometime blackness gave way to red again and then to light as he slowly opened his eyes.

A leg, the first thing he saw was a leg. A female leg. Well rather a female ankle, a very nice female ankle, clothed in what looked to be something thin and shiny black. The sort of thing Servalan might wear….

Servalan, damn her!

His eyes travelled up the leg, a long way before he met the skirt, a short skirt, far shorter than SHE would ever wear. Eyes narrowed against the pain he pushed his eyes on upwards. A belt, a white shirt, tight, but no jewellery that he could see. Not Servalan then. Or was it? The face…what he could see of it, might be hers, or some relation of hers. He narrowed his eyes against the hard light, focussing as his vision cleared on dark eyes, dark hair and a bright red mouth. A slash of red so bright that made him wonder if it was her after all. But no, the hair, though short, was not cropped and the eyes were darker. Similar expression though; the same calculating amusement, like a cat watching a particularly entertaining mouse.

She bent towards him, a drift of perfume making his nose twitch as he met that curious but impersonal glaze.
"And what have we here?" her voice matched the expression.
His outrage was a refex.
"Travis. Space Commander Travis," he heard himself say in a furious tone.

There was silence for a moment as their eyes met, his breathing suddenly harsh and laboured in the quiet. Then the dark eyebrows quirked and the curve of the mouth shifted a little.
"Space Commander, really?" the voice was gently mocking.
Her eyes flickered over him, the red gash of a mouth widening further for a moment in something that might have been called a smile.
"And where did you find this one?"

The question didn't seem to be addressed to him but someone behind him, and he struggled to focus as a voice, high pitched and childish replied.
"In the boiler room."
The other speaker moved, surged out of the shadows, and he frowned in disbelief. A child indeed, in a long ill fitting skirt and a grubby jacket. Had Blake taken to recruiting children? He looked around him, for the first time taking in the strange furnishing and odd quality of the light,
"Where am I?" Like his dying scream the sound came from him yet did not seem to belong to him.

The red gash of mouth pursed a little and those dark eyes took on a calculating look.
"Well I don't know how you got here," there was a slight pause as he was looked over again, "Space Commander." The amusement was unmistakable now, "But welcome to St Trinians. I think you are in for a very interesting time."