Part of Endeavour: Where Angels Fear To Tread

The Best Laid Plans…

Alpha Gruis I
Tuesday 17th May 2157
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Samiwell was helping Doctor Branson apply the thick black eyeliner that Chief Mistress Trista liked them to wear. It was early morning and the personal attendees were getting themselves ready for what lay ahead of them for the day. 

“I got to admit, I didn’t think I’d like the eyeliner or the blusher, but it’s kind of making me look pretty,” Branson shared with a smirk.

From behind him, placing several rings on his fingers and necklace chains, Captain Campbell chuckled. “I’m pretty certain as prisoners, we’re not meant to be enjoying our captivity, Ed.”

“We are not prisoners, we serve the will of our chief mistress,” Samiwell reminded them. He took in a deep breath and winced slightly.

Noticing the young lad showing discomfort, Branson looked at him. “Those ribs still hurting?”

He nodded.

“The chief mistress was a bit more hands-on with him last night,” Campbell said as he finished getting himself ready. 

“I am her senior attendee. It is expected.” Samiwell said in between breaths as he finished his work on Branson.

Ed shook his head, “It doesn’t have to be. It’s not right that one being can own another in such a way.”

“If it pleases the mistress,” Samiwell said. “I should finish getting myself ready.” He paused and smiled sweetly at Branson. “I do appreciate you looking out for me.” Samiwell placed a reassuring hand on Branson’s left shoulder before he walked over to the other side of the room where he slept and began changing his shirt, revealing the bruises and marks against his chest and back. 

Branson grumbled at the sight but Campbell gave him an assuring look. Whispering he shared his plan. “When we leave here, I noticed last night as we were preparing the mistress’ bath she had some of our gear stowed away on a bookshelf. One of them is my communicator and part of your medical kit.”

“What part of my kit?” Branson whispered.

“Your medicine pouch.”

Branson looked at Campbell, “if I can get my hands on it then there’s a hypospray in there filled with pain relief and suppressants. We could help Samiwell and he may be prepared to help us.”

“Agreed,” Campbell said with a nod. 

At that point, the door to their room opened with loud creaking noise as the guards entered, all women, and was followed by someone pushing a trolley filled with food. The guards then left and closed the door behind him.

“Oh my god,” Branson said in surprise and was impressed to see Lieutenant Ricci. “Ant, are you okay?”

Seeing and hearing his communications officer’s name, Campbell turned on his heels to face Ricci. “Antione, thank goodness you’re alive.”

The whole experience from the start had been humiliating for Ricci. He didn’t mind fixing food but in this situation it was horrible. He had fixed breakfast with the other cooks and got pushed to the cart and told to follow the guards. He complied though on the inside he was not happy to be separated from his crew mates.

As Ricci entered the room he smiled slightly seeing Campbell and Branson “I am about as ok as I can be given the current situation. Captain, I won’t die easily, especially if the crew is in danger.”

“Oliver, Ed, we should not discuss so much while the guards are outside,” Samiwell warned. 

Campbell turned to the young man. “Samiwell, this is Antione, he is our friend and was sent to the kitchens. Do you remember?”

“I do, but the chief mistress’s personal attendees do not mix with those who prepare her meals,” Samiwell said.

Ed shook his head at that remark and turned to Ricci. Ricci looked as if he had been working all day and night. “How bad is it where you are?”

Ricci shook his head “I am exhausted I feel like the last time I got sleep was the night before we arrived…in fact, I think that’s the case. They have kept me in the kitchen cooking with little to no breaks. I have barely eaten anything in days.”

Campbell insisted that his communication officer take something from the trolley he had brought in. “Keep your strength up, lieutenant. We think we know how to get a message out to the ship.”

Ricci snatched up a delicious-looking pastry and ate it in a quick manner wiping his face to make sure no trace evidence was left. It felt good to have something to eat though he knew if he ate anymore he would be sick. 

“My communicator is on the bookshelf in the chief mistress’ chambers,” Campbell explained. “If even one or two of us can sneak in there then we should try.”

Branson looked at the trolley that Ricci had brought in. It was covered with a white sheet and had a shelf on the bottom. He smirked and gestured to it. “I have an idea, sir.” 

Campbell looked at him, the trolley and then grinned. He turned to Ricci. “Lieutenant, do you think you could push the good doctor under there into her room while Samiwell and I keep up appearances?”

Ricci nodded “If it’s a way to get us out of here I am willing to try anything at this point, sir.”

“Then let’s do it,” Campbell insisted.