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Rangers Redux (fiction)
- Thread starter channe
- Start date
"Don't be frightened of death," Tafeek returned softly, as the girl shuddered once more and buried her face into the rough fabric of his duty uniform. "When it comes, it comes."
Ellen took a halting breath and detached herself, her hand wiping moisture from below her eyes. "How much air do we have?"
Tafeek turned to the pod's main control panel, got to his knees, and entered the query. Information flashed on the screen in Adronato glyphs, and he read it.
Oh, Valen.
He hastily cast a glance over his shoulder to see if the human woman had seen the figure - she was buttoning her vest - and wiped the information quickly.
"Enough," he said, his voice quaking.
Distraught, Ellen nodded, not looking up. Her hands dropped to her lap, where they twisted together. She fidgeted for a moment.
"I'm going to close my eyes," she said. "I - I - is that all right, sir?"
Tafeek slid to the floor without answering.
"Sir?"
He rubbed the fatigue from his eyes. "Did they teach you nothing?"
Ellen, her voice wavering slightly, replied softly, "Sir?"
His mouth opened to answer her - and instead of regulations, instead of the teachings of the Anla'shok, he saw the blue-green fields ringing Tuzanor, remembered the city shining in the afternoon sun.
"You need to stay awake," he said, almost hoarsely. "The Whitestars will arrive soon. Sleep not."
Ellen took a halting breath and detached herself, her hand wiping moisture from below her eyes. "How much air do we have?"
Tafeek turned to the pod's main control panel, got to his knees, and entered the query. Information flashed on the screen in Adronato glyphs, and he read it.
Oh, Valen.
He hastily cast a glance over his shoulder to see if the human woman had seen the figure - she was buttoning her vest - and wiped the information quickly.
"Enough," he said, his voice quaking.
Distraught, Ellen nodded, not looking up. Her hands dropped to her lap, where they twisted together. She fidgeted for a moment.
"I'm going to close my eyes," she said. "I - I - is that all right, sir?"
Tafeek slid to the floor without answering.
"Sir?"
He rubbed the fatigue from his eyes. "Did they teach you nothing?"
Ellen, her voice wavering slightly, replied softly, "Sir?"
His mouth opened to answer her - and instead of regulations, instead of the teachings of the Anla'shok, he saw the blue-green fields ringing Tuzanor, remembered the city shining in the afternoon sun.
"You need to stay awake," he said, almost hoarsely. "The Whitestars will arrive soon. Sleep not."
I just saw Bond. I'm resisting the urge to trigger any explosions quite yet...
-- -- --
"This is ridiculous," Martel said, dropping the stylus. It clattered neatly on the desk, and he leaned back, narrowing his eyes at the offending diagram. "Who builds a housing like this? Completely inaccessible. If the main systems crashed, you'd have to drill through to reach the manual interface - it'd take forever. Everyone would die if you had to bring the systems up again. Not to mention that it's going to make my job exponentially harder."
He eyed Dulann, who was straight-faced, considering a flimsy before him. "Obviously. We're looking for a secondary backup." the Minbari said.
Martel coughed. "You'd think so," the captain muttered. "IPX had a lot of money and manpower invested in this rig."
Dulann placed the flimsy back on the table and folded his hands. "The core housing is built to withstand a high-level concussion," he said. "Which they recieved with the attack of the Hand vessels. On-station secondary access or backup files would have been eliminated along with the base. If they had survived, this mission would not be necessary."
"You'd think so," the captain repeated. "Dulann, what about remote backup?"
Dulann looked slightly startled. "That technology does not exist."
Martel shook his head. "Jump capabilities for ships smaller than eight thousand katasu didn't exist until Sheridan fought the Shadow vessel over Mars," he said. "But - remote access -"
His eyes lit up. He leaned forward and hit the intercom toggle. "Na'feel, please report to the captain's office," he said. Lifting his hand, he regarded Dulann.
"You're fidgety."
"I am not," the Minbari answered.
"I can tell," Martel replied. "It has to do with Tafeek, doesn't it."
-- -- --
"This is ridiculous," Martel said, dropping the stylus. It clattered neatly on the desk, and he leaned back, narrowing his eyes at the offending diagram. "Who builds a housing like this? Completely inaccessible. If the main systems crashed, you'd have to drill through to reach the manual interface - it'd take forever. Everyone would die if you had to bring the systems up again. Not to mention that it's going to make my job exponentially harder."
He eyed Dulann, who was straight-faced, considering a flimsy before him. "Obviously. We're looking for a secondary backup." the Minbari said.
Martel coughed. "You'd think so," the captain muttered. "IPX had a lot of money and manpower invested in this rig."
Dulann placed the flimsy back on the table and folded his hands. "The core housing is built to withstand a high-level concussion," he said. "Which they recieved with the attack of the Hand vessels. On-station secondary access or backup files would have been eliminated along with the base. If they had survived, this mission would not be necessary."
"You'd think so," the captain repeated. "Dulann, what about remote backup?"
Dulann looked slightly startled. "That technology does not exist."
Martel shook his head. "Jump capabilities for ships smaller than eight thousand katasu didn't exist until Sheridan fought the Shadow vessel over Mars," he said. "But - remote access -"
His eyes lit up. He leaned forward and hit the intercom toggle. "Na'feel, please report to the captain's office," he said. Lifting his hand, he regarded Dulann.
"You're fidgety."
"I am not," the Minbari answered.
"I can tell," Martel replied. "It has to do with Tafeek, doesn't it."
This entry is a milestone in Redux history.
This morning, in the forty-five minutes that I sat at the Dunkin' Donuts nursing a medium hazelnut coffee, I outlined the next five or six entries.
That's right. I planned ahead.
-- -- --
"Minbari do not fidget," muttered Dulann, looking slightly offended.
Martel snorted. "You do. You sit there and you do that - thing - with your hands. I've spent far too much time around you not to notice. Admit it. You fidget."
"I do not - "
He was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell, and the intercom warbled something that sounded like a cross between the death-cry of a mangled dog and an annoyed Drazi shoe salesman late for lunch.
Dulann raised his eyebrows.
"Got to get that fixed," Martel said underneath his breath, hitting the lock toggle. A moment later, Malcolm pushed the door open and strode in, dropping a number of flimsies on the captain's desk, looking all the while rather pleased with himself.
"Merry Christmas," the intelligence officer chirped. He crossed his arms, nodded to Dulann, and waited as Martel looked them over. He flipped through them, lips pursing for the occasional whistle.
"Malcolm, you are a miracle worker. Stick around." His hand hit the intercom toggle. "Cantrell and Sasaki to the captain's office, please."
This morning, in the forty-five minutes that I sat at the Dunkin' Donuts nursing a medium hazelnut coffee, I outlined the next five or six entries.
That's right. I planned ahead.
-- -- --
"Minbari do not fidget," muttered Dulann, looking slightly offended.
Martel snorted. "You do. You sit there and you do that - thing - with your hands. I've spent far too much time around you not to notice. Admit it. You fidget."
"I do not - "
He was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell, and the intercom warbled something that sounded like a cross between the death-cry of a mangled dog and an annoyed Drazi shoe salesman late for lunch.
Dulann raised his eyebrows.
"Got to get that fixed," Martel said underneath his breath, hitting the lock toggle. A moment later, Malcolm pushed the door open and strode in, dropping a number of flimsies on the captain's desk, looking all the while rather pleased with himself.
"Merry Christmas," the intelligence officer chirped. He crossed his arms, nodded to Dulann, and waited as Martel looked them over. He flipped through them, lips pursing for the occasional whistle.
"Malcolm, you are a miracle worker. Stick around." His hand hit the intercom toggle. "Cantrell and Sasaki to the captain's office, please."
Martel always enjoyed, in a rather perverse way, having his crew meet in the Liandra's cramped captain's office. It was a much different dynamic than he found on the bridge; there, everyone had their own space, worked their own consoles, acted smoothly together in tight situations, moved the wheel that kept the ship moving forward.
But here, in the captain's office, they had to stand, and move from one foot to the other uncomfortably; if they flailed their arms, they usually ended up slapping one another in the face; tempers flared and flashed. They rubbed up against each other, bounced ideas, worked in close quarters, and generally came up with their best work trying to top one another. Not a very good dynamic for battle, but when Martel wanted ideas, fast, placing everyone in the cauldron and lighting a match was the easiest method.
"Glad I could make the party," quipped Sarah, taking up a spot on the opposite wall. "What's the occasion?"
Martel gestured to Malcolm. The intelligence officer nodded, cleared his throat, picked up the flimsies he had just dropped on the desk, and passed them around.
"Oh - no way," Cantrell sighed. "No way, Malcolm."
But here, in the captain's office, they had to stand, and move from one foot to the other uncomfortably; if they flailed their arms, they usually ended up slapping one another in the face; tempers flared and flashed. They rubbed up against each other, bounced ideas, worked in close quarters, and generally came up with their best work trying to top one another. Not a very good dynamic for battle, but when Martel wanted ideas, fast, placing everyone in the cauldron and lighting a match was the easiest method.
"Glad I could make the party," quipped Sarah, taking up a spot on the opposite wall. "What's the occasion?"
Martel gestured to Malcolm. The intelligence officer nodded, cleared his throat, picked up the flimsies he had just dropped on the desk, and passed them around.
"Oh - no way," Cantrell sighed. "No way, Malcolm."
Sarah scanned the flimsy once more, and locked eyes with Malcolm. "These are Mars-engineered tunnels," she muttered, held up the flimsy, pointing to three points on the diagram. "Right here, under the main science building, connecting the building with the core housing. The girders are similar, the angles - makes sense, considering that Beta Durani's a Marslike world..."
Na'feel snorted. "They're hardly that," she said, staring at Sarah. "They can't be. Nobody would be that stupid as to design Mars-efficient tunnels through a computer core like that. If there was a crash, you'd kill everyone before you could get to the manually reboot. Mars tunnels are a warren by necessity - "
Dulann met Martel's smug gaze and raised his eyebrows once.
Sarah shook her head. "Mars-efficient," she said. "I grew up in 'em. I could tell you the specs from a mile away."
Martel cleared his throat, cutting off the engineer before she could swear at his weapons tech. "Na'feel, what can you tell me about the other tunnels?"
Na'feel cast a glance down to the flimsy, and back up at Martel. "Standard mineshafts. Nothing special. They look like Q-40 easies to me."
Sarah coughed.
Na'feel plowed merrily on, ignoring what she obviously considered the weapons officer's attempt to stifle her thought processs. "Which is equally as stupid, considering that Q-40 easies aren't usually stable enough to reach a dig as far underground as the Beta Durani 7."
Sarah looked slightly green, but said nothing.
"Interplanetary Expeditions," said Malcolm, jumping on the end of Na'feel's statement, "was first on the scene. A year and a half ago, actually, Beta Durani 7 was considered nothing more than an old Sanaan settlement. IPX applied for the right permits, which the Alliance granted, hired contractors, including Nixiam Industries - " he continued, staring straight at Martel " - for the construction of transit shafts down to the dig site."
"They couldn't have recieved a permit for something like this," Na'feel groused, waving the flimsy. "This isn't code."
"No," admitted Malcolm. "The copies that were filed with the Alliance Office of Antiquities show Q-40 easies drilled to 300 kalu, which, Captain Martel will agree with me, is stable."
Martel gave a small nod.
"So where are these from?" Na'feel nearly howled, taking an almost personal offense, as she usually did, to works of bad engineering.
Malcolm adopted a death's-head grin - the kind Martel saw only when he was about to win.
"Interesting question, Na," he said. The engineer bristled. "Alliance Office of Antiquities is the answer."
Na'feel snorted. "They're hardly that," she said, staring at Sarah. "They can't be. Nobody would be that stupid as to design Mars-efficient tunnels through a computer core like that. If there was a crash, you'd kill everyone before you could get to the manually reboot. Mars tunnels are a warren by necessity - "
Dulann met Martel's smug gaze and raised his eyebrows once.
Sarah shook her head. "Mars-efficient," she said. "I grew up in 'em. I could tell you the specs from a mile away."
Martel cleared his throat, cutting off the engineer before she could swear at his weapons tech. "Na'feel, what can you tell me about the other tunnels?"
Na'feel cast a glance down to the flimsy, and back up at Martel. "Standard mineshafts. Nothing special. They look like Q-40 easies to me."
Sarah coughed.
Na'feel plowed merrily on, ignoring what she obviously considered the weapons officer's attempt to stifle her thought processs. "Which is equally as stupid, considering that Q-40 easies aren't usually stable enough to reach a dig as far underground as the Beta Durani 7."
Sarah looked slightly green, but said nothing.
"Interplanetary Expeditions," said Malcolm, jumping on the end of Na'feel's statement, "was first on the scene. A year and a half ago, actually, Beta Durani 7 was considered nothing more than an old Sanaan settlement. IPX applied for the right permits, which the Alliance granted, hired contractors, including Nixiam Industries - " he continued, staring straight at Martel " - for the construction of transit shafts down to the dig site."
"They couldn't have recieved a permit for something like this," Na'feel groused, waving the flimsy. "This isn't code."
"No," admitted Malcolm. "The copies that were filed with the Alliance Office of Antiquities show Q-40 easies drilled to 300 kalu, which, Captain Martel will agree with me, is stable."
Martel gave a small nod.
"So where are these from?" Na'feel nearly howled, taking an almost personal offense, as she usually did, to works of bad engineering.
Malcolm adopted a death's-head grin - the kind Martel saw only when he was about to win.
"Interesting question, Na," he said. The engineer bristled. "Alliance Office of Antiquities is the answer."
I'm many things, the least of them Tolkien, but your compliment warms my heart. Thanks, dude. /forums/images/graemlins/smile.gif
I do, however, have to leave you folks stewing. Workload was just kicked up a rather interesting notch and will be heavy until the end of the week. No Redux until Friday night at least.
Sorry!
I do, however, have to leave you folks stewing. Workload was just kicked up a rather interesting notch and will be heavy until the end of the week. No Redux until Friday night at least.
Sorry!
While you're waiting for Friday night (or whenever /forums/images/graemlins/wink.gif ), go listen to the Foo Fighters' new song, "All My Life."
The entire song (including notes, rhythms, lyrics and pacing) fits quite snugly with my eventual vision for Martel's past and future... and, trust me, it wasn't intentional.
The entire song (including notes, rhythms, lyrics and pacing) fits quite snugly with my eventual vision for Martel's past and future... and, trust me, it wasn't intentional.
Foo Fighters
Title: All My Life
Album: One By One
All my life I've been searching for something
Something never comes never leads to nothing
Nothing satisfies but I'm getting close
Closer to the prize at the end of the rope
All night long I dream of the day
When it comes around then it's taken away
Leaves me with the feeling that I feel the most
The feeling comes to life when I see your ghost
Come down don't you resist
You have such a delicate wrist
And if I give it a twist
Something to hold when I lose my breath
Will I find something in that
So give me just what I need
Another reason to bleed
ONE BY ONE hidden up my sleeve
ONE BY ONE hidden up my sleeve
Hey don't let it go to waste
I love it but I hate the taste
Weight keeping me down (x2)
Will I find a believer
Another one who believes
Another one to deceive
Over and over down on my knees
If I get any closer
And if you open up wide
And if you let me inside
On and on I've got nothing to hide
On and on I've got nothing to hide
Hey don't let it go to waste
I love it but I hate the taste
Weight keeping me down (x2)
All my life I've been searching for something
Something never comes never leads to nothing
Nothing satisfies but I'm getting close
Closer to the prize at the end of the rope
All night long I dream of the day
When it comes around then it's taken away
Leaves me with the feeling that I feel the most
The feeling comes to life when I see your ghost
And I'm done, done and I'm under the next one (x8, then x4 but yelling)
Hey don't let it go to waste
I love it but I hate the taste
Weight keeping me down (x2)
(yelling)
Done done and under the next one
Done I'm done and I'm under the next
Title: All My Life
Album: One By One
All my life I've been searching for something
Something never comes never leads to nothing
Nothing satisfies but I'm getting close
Closer to the prize at the end of the rope
All night long I dream of the day
When it comes around then it's taken away
Leaves me with the feeling that I feel the most
The feeling comes to life when I see your ghost
Come down don't you resist
You have such a delicate wrist
And if I give it a twist
Something to hold when I lose my breath
Will I find something in that
So give me just what I need
Another reason to bleed
ONE BY ONE hidden up my sleeve
ONE BY ONE hidden up my sleeve
Hey don't let it go to waste
I love it but I hate the taste
Weight keeping me down (x2)
Will I find a believer
Another one who believes
Another one to deceive
Over and over down on my knees
If I get any closer
And if you open up wide
And if you let me inside
On and on I've got nothing to hide
On and on I've got nothing to hide
Hey don't let it go to waste
I love it but I hate the taste
Weight keeping me down (x2)
All my life I've been searching for something
Something never comes never leads to nothing
Nothing satisfies but I'm getting close
Closer to the prize at the end of the rope
All night long I dream of the day
When it comes around then it's taken away
Leaves me with the feeling that I feel the most
The feeling comes to life when I see your ghost
And I'm done, done and I'm under the next one (x8, then x4 but yelling)
Hey don't let it go to waste
I love it but I hate the taste
Weight keeping me down (x2)
(yelling)
Done done and under the next one
Done I'm done and I'm under the next
I feel like a flashback. Brownie points for correctly identifying the battle.
-- -- --
December 25th, 2260
David spent a difficult night huddled underneath a thin infirmary blanket, connected to a number of intravenous feeds, the painful, gaping wound in his right side sewn together by a healer's apprentice - a silent Minbari woman who had made sure he wasn't bleeding to death before leaving to attend to a crewman screaming from the pain of full-body burns.
A little past midnight, as the drugs were wearing off, he shifted painfully to find that Dulann had bypassed the door security, talked his way through the nurses, and pulled up a stool by his bedside.
"Hi," David croaked. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
Dulann inclined his head to one side. "It's over," he said quietly. "We're waiting."
David licked dry lips. He thought about sitting up, and then nixed the idea as agony shot up his spine. He gasped softly, and cut Dulann's next words - they'd be "I'll get a healer," of course - with a short shake of the head.
"No, no, don't get someone," he said, biting his lip. "I'm ok."
"Your liver was pierced in three places, and they're still extracting the shrapnel," observed Dulann, dryly. "You should be unconscious."
David nodded. "I'm - I'm on drugs, I think," he said, finding that all of a sudden speech above a whisper was incredibly difficult, and that the room was encased in a slight fog. "Why're we - why're we alive?"
"We won," Dulann said, his mouth firm in a controlled line.
David swore.
The Minbari smiled lightly.
"Get some sleep," he said, and got to his feet. David's last memory for quite a while was Dulann's receding back, as the nurses came, adjusted his dosage, and he slipped back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
--
There'd be more, but I have a funeral to go to bright and early...
-- -- --
December 25th, 2260
David spent a difficult night huddled underneath a thin infirmary blanket, connected to a number of intravenous feeds, the painful, gaping wound in his right side sewn together by a healer's apprentice - a silent Minbari woman who had made sure he wasn't bleeding to death before leaving to attend to a crewman screaming from the pain of full-body burns.
A little past midnight, as the drugs were wearing off, he shifted painfully to find that Dulann had bypassed the door security, talked his way through the nurses, and pulled up a stool by his bedside.
"Hi," David croaked. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
Dulann inclined his head to one side. "It's over," he said quietly. "We're waiting."
David licked dry lips. He thought about sitting up, and then nixed the idea as agony shot up his spine. He gasped softly, and cut Dulann's next words - they'd be "I'll get a healer," of course - with a short shake of the head.
"No, no, don't get someone," he said, biting his lip. "I'm ok."
"Your liver was pierced in three places, and they're still extracting the shrapnel," observed Dulann, dryly. "You should be unconscious."
David nodded. "I'm - I'm on drugs, I think," he said, finding that all of a sudden speech above a whisper was incredibly difficult, and that the room was encased in a slight fog. "Why're we - why're we alive?"
"We won," Dulann said, his mouth firm in a controlled line.
David swore.
The Minbari smiled lightly.
"Get some sleep," he said, and got to his feet. David's last memory for quite a while was Dulann's receding back, as the nurses came, adjusted his dosage, and he slipped back into a deep, dreamless sleep.
--
There'd be more, but I have a funeral to go to bright and early...
