OOMM: Data and River in London

[ol_yellow_eyes]

[OOC: Continued from here.]

It had been going so well.

What started as a casual evening stroll through Highgate Cemetery in 19th-century London somehow turned into a flight for their lives. Data did not know why they were running, only what they were running from-- three rather large human males, who seemed quite angry about something. He had also caught glimpses of weapons in their possession, namely a pistol and what seemed to be a horsewhip. (He might have wanted to observe them more closely if he had not been so concerned for River's safety.)

She knew the city better than he did, and she was the one who suggested they take advantage of the city's sewage system.

And that is how they ended up here.

Data turns to River finally. "Now that we are no longer in immediate danger, may I ask why those men might have been pursuing us?"

Comments

[hell_in_highheels]

"We can discuss it all you like. Over dinner and a nice glass of port. Shit."

She's taken a wrong turn some where and has lost her bearings. She comes to a fork and decides quickly to take the right one. It's dropping a few inches every ten yards, but the footfalls don't seem to be getting any further distant.

There's a shout, soon answered by another voice, followed by the crack of a gun shot, the harsh report amplified by the hard stone. The shot ricochets off the cobbles, no where near hitting the mark, and River curses under her breath. "This way!"

The sound of running water gets louder.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Data takes note of her hesitation, and realizes she is not certain where she is going. But that wrong turn must have come sometime well before this particular divergence in the tunnels-- he would have corrected her choice, if he had thought the left tunnel would have been any better, but judging by the pattern of echoing soundwaves, there was approximately a 95.8 percent chance that it led to a dead end.

This particular tunnel might not be much better, however. The sound waves are getting absorbed towards the end, and that sounds like a lot of water...

Data feels a small burst of panic when he hears the gunshot. He takes note of the angle tries to adjust his position relative to River in such a way that he might be between her and the bullet if they should happen to be more accurate next time.

"They are gaining on us at a rate of .37 meters per second," Data notes, his voice just a slightly higher pitch than normal.

[hell_in_highheels]

"As I gathered!"

She actually sounds like she's enjoying this.

"At least they're not Daleks!"

She is. She's definitely enjoying this.

She skids to a halt at the end of the tunnel, eyes on the foetid torrent of Thames water spewing from the grate down into the only egress, a ragged hole in the ground disappearing into darkness.

She looks back up at him, her green eyes flashing. "The river can't be too far. Maybe a few hundred yards?"

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

As she skids to a halt, Data reaches out to put his arms lightly around her, as if by reflex, like he is afraid she might fall into that gaping hole.

He glances around at everything quickly, taking in all sides of the situation.

"What do you suggest?"

[hell_in_highheels]

Her eyes go up a bit at the gesture, but she's not averse it seems.

"How are your circuits suited for a full immersion?"

She fumbles in her pocket for something, and comes up with a small silver device with a green light at the end.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"They are suited to it just fine," Data says, with a slight nod. He is curious what the device is for, but he does not take the time to ask-- he knows he will likely find out very quickly.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Good. Just a moment."

She holds it up and thumbs it to life, flipping through the settings like her life depended on it. Which it does, really. Something sings in the air around her face, and when she next speaks, the sound is somewhat muffled.

"Two minutes of air. On your mark!"

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"Now!" Wasting as little time as possible, Data grabs her hand and jumps with her into the water. They may possibly need that full minute and 57.4 seconds she has left.

He lets go of her hand when they hit the water, both because it will make swimming easier for her, and because he will probably sink a bit further than she will. He has perfected an internal flotation system, though, and should be able to maintain a similar bouyancy to her. The current should aid their progress.

[hell_in_highheels]

They jump just in time to see their pursuers round the corner, their faces masks of absolute amazement.

She tucks her hands and feet, a harsh gasp escaping her lips as the cold of the water shocks her system. Numb fingers claw at the tumult, and she can't see. She tries to keep her breathing under control, but it's no use, being hammered as she is on all sides by the massive weight of the torrent.

Something tears at her sleeve and she grips the sonic screwdriver even tighter, feeling her body spin and tumble. There's a harsh crack and her vision dims and goes black.

Captain Data, have one utterly unconscious time travelling archaeologist of dubious origins. At least she still has a minute of air remaining?

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Data is carefully keeping track of River, as his senses are less confused by the chaos of the torrent. It takes him longer than he would like, though, to realize that she is unconscious-- he did not clearly see what happened. He grabs hold of her as soon as he notices she is no longer moving on her own.

Unfortunately, swimming while holding onto somone is significantly more difficult, and his progress will be slowed somewhat. He has to shield her several times from hitting the walls of the narrow tunnel they are in, when his attempts to fight the current are unable to keep him from knocking into the sides.

It takes more than one minute. River will be without air for a brief period of time.

He pulls her out of the water and onto the muddy riverbank. Without letting go of her waist, he brings his head to her chest to listen for fluid in her lungs. She seems to have swallowed a lot of water, but she still has a pulse.

[hell_in_highheels]

River coughs and splutters, more than a few mouthfuls of foetid Thames water coming back up. She's bedraggled as a cat gone through the laundry, and about as pleased. She holds tightly to his arm as she tries to clear her airway, each choking cough less rough than the one before. When she can breathe again, she sighs, leaning heavily against him.

"Not as elegant an escape as -- I could hope for -- but -- effective..."

He'll notice she tucks the sonic screwdriver back in its holster at her waist.

"Now we really need a bath and a change of clothes."

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"That would be a wise course of action," Data agrees, with a nod. "It is imperative that we find a dry set of clothes for you to wear, because of the low temperature of the water..." Data, she may notice, is actually rather warm.

There is a slight smile playing on his lips as his voice trails off; he is relieved that she seems to be okay, that she is talking again. But he wonders-- a little anxiously-- if there is anything else he can do for her.

"Are you certain you are all right?" he asks. He needs her reassurance before he will let her get up.

[hell_in_highheels]

She still leans heavily on his arm, one hand coming up to explore the back of her head, fingertips probing in her thick hair, gingerly.

"My head is killing me," she confesses, looking a bit sheepish.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"You have suffered a concussion," he says, his voice softer. He tips her chin up gently, checking her eyes for pupil dilation.

"Perhaps you should rest a bit before attempting to stand," he says, almost like a question.

[hell_in_highheels]

She returns his gaze, eyes going a little wide, but nothing outside of normal parameters.

"We need to get moving. They'll figure it out soon enough. Do you have some sort of mapping technology? I can give you -- oh -- coordinates. In case I, heaven forbid, lose consciousness again."

She really would like for that not to happen, please. Bad enough he's seen her with her hair all bedraggled, looking like something the cat dragged in.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Data nods. "I have something very comparable to that. Do you have some location in mind where we should go?"

[hell_in_highheels]

She reels off a set of numbers, latitude and longitude, her long term memory obviously not impaired.

"You're not injured, are you?" Her voice is tinged with worry, and no small amount of chagrin, embarrassed for having waited so long to inquire.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"I am not damaged," Data tells her. "My systems absorbed a bit of water, but that is normal whenever I attempt to swim. It does not interfere with any of my internal processes."

He adjusts to bring himself up to a kneeling position, still holding onto her. "Would you like help standing up?"

He is only asking to be polite-- he will help her whether she wants it or not.

[hell_in_highheels]

"Such a gentleman," she says, still obviously leaning heavily on him. "Your daughter is going to have my head on a platter, isn't she?"

She laughs under her breath, and then winces, her eyes squinting shut. "I've stashed a medkit at the hotel. I think perhaps -- we shouldn't dawdle."

Understatement. If she really is concussed, she'll need medical attention right quick.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

"We will not mention this to her," he says, cracking a half-smile.

He starts to help her walk, but he does mention, "I could simply carry you, if you prefer."

[hell_in_highheels]

"No. No, don't want to draw attention."

She wraps a hand around his waist, looking up at him with a strange look in her eye.

"Just pretend that I've had too much to drink. We're not too far."

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Data cannot quite read her expression, but it is noted.

He nods once in response to her suggestion, and brings one arm around her back to support her. He will lead her like this all the way to the hotel, if River is able to walk that far.

[hell_in_highheels]

The hotel in question is less a proper, upstanding establishment and more of a sordid conglomeration of rooms for let. She leans heavily on him and giggles and laughs through the foyer and up the stairs, ignoring the matron's glares as she watches them ascend.

"She'll be wanting her cut, later, I suppose." River keeps him close as she fishes out the key to the room she keeps.

The room is small, a simple bed in one corner, with a wash basin and a wardrobe. There's a table with two rickety old chairs as well. She settles into one of these chairs with a wince and a sigh.

"Under the bed." He'll find a beat to hell leather bag that reveals a very advanced medkit inside.

[ol-yellow-eyes.livejournal.com]

Data finds the medkit and returns to River's side quickly, as if uncomfortable being away from her side for too long. Before administering any sort of remedy, he takes a moment to assess the damage with his tricorder. It seems that her concussion was relatively mild and would heal with rest, but he will use anything in the medkit he finds that would assist in the process.

As he works, he asks, "Do you store any clothing in this room that you might be able to change into?"

Also, noting that the chair does not look very comfortable, he adds, "Are you certain you would not prefer to lie down?"

[hell_in_highheels]

"Why, Captain," River drawls, smiling even through the pain. "If you want to get me out of my clothes and into bed, you're going to have to put a little more effort into it than that."

She tries to laugh, and winces again, idly waving a hand at the wardrobe.