"This is for your own good, Cynthia." 

Considering how she was bound and gagged, it didn't feel like the sort of thing a friend would do. Zanthie kept on saying how she was "looking out for Cyn." The denigrating tone didn't sound at all friendly advice. Combined with Zanthie's snarky smile,

"Zanthie, I'm your friend!"

"I know," responded Zanthie. "That's why I'm doing this. If you were Nariko, I wouldn't be so nice."

Cynthia lay on a long briefing room table while Zanthie made sure she was properly bound. Zanthie was wielding bright blue ultra-tensile carbon cable. It was the same type that they used to tether spacecraft or to stow dangerous cargo. Brute-forcing her way out of it was not an option, unless she could learn how to undo cables and locks with her mind. Unfortunately, that wasn't in her training.

The cables wrapped snug around her ankles, mating with extra mag-locked buckles. A very wide pair of blue steel cuffs locked her ankles together, and a matching pair kept her wrists behind her back. Zanthie was playful and generous with the cables. After all, she was nice enough to heavily harness Cynthia's chest, waist, and bound arms with a thick web of cable. She was also kind enough to run two between her legs, tucked snug against her inner thighs. That was a true sign of friendship. 

"If I didn't care about my teammates, I wouldn't be tying you up like this," said Zanthie. Her matter-of-fact tone made Cynthia cringe. "So yes. I'm your friend. Friends keep other friends from making bad choices."

"Oh... please, Zan, then why don't we both go together? You think this mission is a trap. How about you untie me and we get some other Space Angels together. We'll head to Station Twelve together. If it is an ambush, there's no way they'll take us all on."

Zanthie spent a moment to contemplate the offer. She tapped her finger against her lips.

"Hmm... so your idea..."

"Yes...?" Cynthia raised her head from the table. She was trying to lean a bit closer to Zanthie, bound as she was, and engage with her. Anything to get out of these tight bonds and talk some sense into her friend!

"So your idea is to get everyone together and defeat any possible ambushes that Tanya and her team have."

"Yes!"

"So that way, none of us gets captured alone and we all have backup."

"Yes, exactly!"

"And in that we, we all share the credit and glory...?"

Cynthia gulped. "Uh... yes?"

Zanthie shrugged. "Guess it can't be helped."

With that, Zanthie slipped a fat wad of cloth between Cynthia's lips. She grunted for a moment, furrowing her brow. Zanthie slapped a piece of blue tape over Cyn's mouth. It quickly grew and expanded, engulfing her lower jaw in a thick BlueTape gag. Zan smiled and leaned in close to her bound and now-gagged friend.

"Sorry, Cyn, but there's no way I'm going to share a mission this juicy with the rest of the Angels. She punctuated this by gently 'booping' Cyn's gagged lips. All the while, the heroine was mmphing and grunting with all her might.

The dark-haired pilot slipped a blindfold over Cynthia's eyes. For fun, she also locked a metal panel-gag over her lower mouth, strapping the harness over the gag and blindfold.

"And don't tell anyone this, but if you got hurt, I'd never forgive myself. I just can't let you go on this mission... but I'll see you when I'm back!" 

Zanthie threw a switch. Cynthia thrashed left and right, trying to figure out what her co-pilot had just done. She was being raised towards the ceiling via a heavy winch and cable strapped to her feet. She'd be displayed in the briefing room for all to see. The squirming body would make for a clear sign to the rest of the Angels that Zanthie was out on a mission... and that she was not to be followed.

 

====

Zanthie's fighter veered dangerously close to the space station. The three drone-fighters held fire, instead shifting to maneuver. They were hard-programmed with very few directives - and one of them was "do not damage the station you exist to protect." Zanthie knew it, and effortlessly wove through the station's support beams. The bots couldn't get a clear shot - although, with three of them on her tail, neither could she. 

The station itself was a toroid with a central bridge and four long support struts. The only lights that came from it were running lights, which meant that every laser blast lit up its darkened hull. Every shot was perfectly calculated to avoid any collateral damage, which meant that there weren't many shots to begin with. It also meant that every shot that the drones did take was either a hit or near-hit on Zanthie's shields.

She licked her lips. Cold Station Ninety-Nine was all but unmanned. The fewer people the better, after all - much of it held dangerous old biochemical weaponry from the Metal Wars. It was here to await disposal, research, or simply sealed away for a time that it was needed again. Tanya had threatened that unless Cynthia showed up, alone and unarmed to talk, that she'd release the contents on the nearest inhabited world. Cynthia had believed her. Zanthie did not. Zanthie also knew that Tanya might just be arrogant enough to be here in person... and probably armed with a few hundred other goons to catch Cyn. The poor thing would probably be squeamish about such threats and give in without a fight. Zanthie held no such compunctions.

For example, she had no problem at all in flipping her fighter backwards and letting a fusillade of energy blasts rip apart the three drones. The station took some damage, sure - and a few canisters of what might be dangerous bio-weapons leaked out, sure. But that was why pencils had erasers - mistakes happened. Zanthie took her fighter into the docking bay, slicing it open with her craft's cutting laser when it didn't feel like opening nicely. She hopped out, in her EVA helmet and drew a weapon. The bay seemed just about empty.

Much the station was like that, like it had been cleared out. Zanthie was expecting an ambush at any second, but it didn't come. She was almost disappointed. The pilot exited the landing bay, heading down a spoke to the central bridge. If Tanya was waiting anywhere, she'd be there - sitting in front of a bank of computers and gloating. With a flourish, she popped open the door and rolled inside, placing her back against a row of computers.

"Tanya! You here, or just one of your goons!" 

It wasn't quiet. A few lights were blaring, and panels on the walls indicated that "Storage Area Nine was compromised" - probably the result of Zanthie's dogfight earlier - and that any breaches of containment were very dangerous.

A voice began to play over a speaker. "Cynthia! I'm glad you came. You see, I'd hate to have to bring this station into orbit -"

Zanthie raised an eyebrow. A recording? A bit disappointing. She was about to stand up when a hand placed itself atop her helmet. She looked up and saw a scarf hanging down over the side of the computer bank... and hunched atop it was a female in a white-and-black suit with a featureless helmet. She instantly felt herself being wrench up in the air and thrown - her assailant had some intense strength! 

The recording continued as Zanthie slammed hard against a railing and hit the floor. "...for now. Which is why, Cynthia, I've dispatched Number Thirteen, a variant of the angel designed with one purpose in mind. Catching and eliminating you..."

Zanthie was already on her way out. She opened the door to another strut and was dashing down it, headlong into another part of the station. She was farther from her ship now, but all that mattered was getting some distance between her and her foe. Thirteen was relentless, barreling headlong down the long shaft and firing her laser pistol at Zanthie as she fled. The pilot just barely made it out of the strut, slamming the door behind her. It looked like she was in one of the many cold storage areas. Through an observation window, she saw the drifting remains of the three unmanned security bots floating, and had an idea.

When Thirteen finally got the door open, Zanthie was surrounded by barrels of chemicals. She knew that Thirteen wouldn't fire, for fear of contaminating herself and the rest of the station. She grinned, imagining that there was a look of panic behind her helmet. "Nice try, Thirteen. But I'm number one!" She pulled the trigger, and realized - to her horror - that Thirteen was armed with more than just a pistol. A glowing beam of energy extended from a gauntlet on her wrist, which had deflected the shot. Zanthie gulped, trying to flee - only to find that all her carefully made barricades tripped her up. The two tussled on the ground, but Thirteen got the better of her pretty quickly. Zanthie, bruised and on her back, was helpless before Thirteen.

A final pre-recorded message began to play. "MISSION COMPLETE. CONTACTING TANYA..."

Tanya's face appeared , superimposed on Thirteen's helmet. "Ah, Cynthia you - wait a minute. You're not Cynthia."

Zanthie managed to crack a smile. "You sure? Come on over here in person and check me out."

Tanya frowned. "Hmm... no, not nearly as pretty as Cynthia, for one." Zanthie frowned too. 

"Well, I guess this is all a misunderstanding, then?" asked the purple-haired pilot.

"Not exactly," continued Tanya. "Zanthie? Number one? Yeah. A rough draft of sorts. I didn't think I'd see you here. I was expecting Cynthia, bleeding heart she is, to be waiting for me. You? You just spoiled the trap."

Zanthie managed a smile. "Yeah. Sorry Cyn couldn't be here. She's a bit tied up at the moment."

Tanya sighed. Thirteen was stone-still the entire time. "All right. Whatever. I can still salvage this. Thirteen, Protocol seventy."

With that, Thirteen brought her laser sword a few inches closer to Zanthie's helmet, barely puncturing the glass before retracting and disappearing. Zanthie stood up. She was fine - better than fine, in fact, and unsure what the point of all that was. A tiny hole in her helmet was no big deal at all, it could self repair and the air itself was breathable. She couldn't imagine why Thirteen had even bothered.

She learned pretty fast, once she realized that flashing lights still indicated a containment breach. The entire station's complement of security converged on her at once, blaring about the need to 'protect and secure all staff'. 

Zanthie was pretty well protected, and quite secure. Airborne tape drones went in first, and while she fought off a few, she couldn't respond to all of them at once. Two grabbed each of her arms, wrapping them individually in shining blue restraint tape. A fifth nabbed her weapon, and a sixth removed her helmet. She managed to crush one between her knees, catching it in midair as she flailed. All that did was tell the tape drones that Zanthie wasn't just in need of protection, she was dangerous.

An eight and final drone began winding its way around her legs, starting with her boots and working upwards. The four on her arms converged, tugging her wrists behind her back and proceeding to layer her in a thin but very effective harness of shiny, smooth, and incredibly snug tape. It began to shrink, sealing and tightening around her torso as the bots reconfigured to wrap her shapely calves, knees, and wide thighs. 

The tape-bots convened around her waist before disengaging. The restraint tape was already sealing itself together, forming a hazmat-proof layer to keep her protected from any chemical spills or accidents - not that there were any for her to wander into. And not that she could do much moving at all!

Seeing that she was still in danger, the bots stuffed her mouth with a life support orb before winding around her pouty lips with tape. She was pretty noisy the entire time, so they did it two more times to be sure. It didn't make the pout - or the squirming - go away. 

"HMMMNMGGH!" Zanthie tried hopping, but she didn't get far. She was far away from her ship, and it was a big station. Thirteen was nowhere to be seen, either. A taunting message from Tanya would have been a welcome respite...

The bots completed their mission, grabbing her and dragging her towards a small alcove on the wall. The mummy-wrapped Zanthie fit in it quite nicely, and a glass case slid over her squirming mummiform. A helmet slid down to replace hers - after all, she had to be protected against any possible leaks or vacuum exposure. The emergency enclosure finished by slapping six heavy metal buckles around her form to keep her in place. 

"MMNGGH! MM-MMMGH!"

Zanthie was stuck. She'd been dragged away to a dark alcove, wrapped, and heavily bound as well as thoroughly gagged. At this point, the only ones who even knew she was here would be Tanya and Cynthia... and Cynthia was probably still tied up. Poor girl had never been any good at escape training.

In her shadowy corner, she saw the station become quiet again. She was trapped here, and for now, nobody at all knew where she was - and no rescue was coming. . Zanthie gulped and squirmed in her perilous oubliette. Space was big, and this station had a lot of boxes.

She couldn't remember whether or not she'd deleted the message for Cynthia after reading it... the one with the coordinates to Cold Station Ninety-Nine. Hopefully Tanya's protocol involved coming back for her...